


Winter's Guardian

by TheVertigoMaster



Category: Frozen (2013)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bodyguard, Alternate Universe - Business, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Apocalypse, F/M, Multi, kristelsa
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-13
Updated: 2017-08-03
Packaged: 2018-02-25 05:35:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 124,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2610368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheVertigoMaster/pseuds/TheVertigoMaster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Elsa Arendelle is the enigmatic CEO of Frost Industries. Kristoff Bjorgman is an ex-soldier turned bodyguard who has seen more than any man should. A storm is brewing, felt only in the creeping chill that frosts up on the edges of the consciousness. It is the foreboding sense that everything is about to change for the worse. Business/Apocalypse AU with a twist. Kristelsa.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Elsa Arendelle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hello, this isn't the first fic I've written, but its the first one I've decided to post on here. I warn you now that you're going to be in for a long one, so hopefully you think that's a good thing. If not, oh well. Enjoy. :)

**Part One— Høst**

* * *

I hadn't known rich people could be so eccentric. I suppose that when your title alone provides enough wealth and power to easily finance an affluent life of luxury, you end up with an absurd amount of free time, and have to spend it doing equally absurd things. You'd think there'd be a limit to it at some point, though.

The doors that led to the conference room opened as several sharply dressed people swarmed out into the hallway, heading their separate ways, some chatting, others silent, and others distressed, striking out toward the restrooms situated next door. Icy blue heels clicked on tile as she approached, pace quick, head down, platinum blonde bangs bouncing, tendrils of hair dangling from a tight bun, the fingers of one hand rapidly spamming messages on a glowing BlackBerry, a snowflake on a keychain dangling from it. The other hand held a cup of coffee: a mocha latte, two cream and three sugars. I would know, she had me buy it that morning, like every morning—she was dressed in white slacks and a white suit jacket over a pale blue formal blouse along with a pair of white gloves. She was also wearing sunglasses, a pair of silver aviators, indoors.

I nodded as she neared me, turning around in her direction as she passed me and following on her right, with my colleague, Sven, the rookie, on her left.

"How was the meeting, ma'am?" I asked lightly, and without expression.

She stopped dead and turned to face me, though I could not tell through the reflective abyss whether she was actually looking at me. Her brows furrowed.

"You can talk?" she remarked. It sounded like an inquisitive groan of surprise, she was clearly tired and irritated. Her voice often sounded quite nice—almost musical—on a good day, as rare as they were. Her dark lenses stared impassively at nothing, at everything.

"Quite well," I replied coolly.

She grunted thoughtfully, before turning on a raised crystalline hell and continuing down the clinical and minimalist hall, taking a swig of her liquid confection. Sven looked over at me apprehensively, and I looked back at him with my most intimidating and intense stare. He folded like a leaf under it, and looked away. I too turned back around, smirking underneath my intangible bodyguard mask, as we approached and entered the elevator, and ascended the spire of a tower that was the Frost Industries headquarters.

My charge was none other than Elsa Arendelle, the enigmatic CEO of said company. Her nerves have been frazzled ever since I've met her, and likely for a lot longer than that, though I've only been guarding her for the past few months. Ominously, this made me one of the most senior member of her staff. Though, when you take into account her volatile shifts between a harried, impatient woman and a social ice queen, as well as her strangely sparse eating habits, and the rumors of many strange accidents involving her, it becomes a bit more clear why I would be considered as such, though it was still not very encouraging.

Our transport awaited us on the roof, a sleek, short-winged urban jet resembling an SUV without wheels. Not a word was spoken as we approached and boarded the vehicle with Sven driving, me in the passenger seat, and our charge in the very back. She was still tapping away at her phone, still wearing shades; it was even darker in here than it was in the building. The entire routine was the same every time, with the shades being an exception, as she wore them all day on seemingly random days. I never asked; it was not my place to, and even if it was, she likely still wouldn't have told me anyway. It was just her way.

Nothing eventful or worth mentioning happened for another hour and 45 minutes—the amount of time elapsing the expanse of mundane activity that covered the flight to the estate, the landing on its roof, and our entry into the building.

The doors leaving the helipad opened to reveal a flash of bright orange hair, accented by a curious streak of white and plaited as twin braids, that went on to light up the rest of the world with color in my eyes. Anna Arendelle, sister to Elsa Arendelle, was one of the few things worth mentioning in my repetitive, predictable, and uneventful life, and the only one worth a lot more than just mentioning.

"Elsa!" she cried, racing down the hall toward us. She was clad in casual attire, a black long-sleeved blouse with some sort of design printed upon it, and jeans. She was barefoot. Elsa put out a hand, still holding her phone, though it was not an invitation to an embrace, but a hand denying passage. Anna's face fell at the sight and she stopped running. She hung her head as Elsa walked past her without a glance, Sven and I trailing a ways behind. It was the same every time, and while I pitied the auburn-haired woman, I didn't say anything; it wasn't my place to, and even if it was, I still wouldn't have asked. It just wasn't my way. There wasn't anything I could have done anyway.

She turned as I passed her, and smiled half-heartedly, the somewhat expected rejection still weighing heavily on a heart large enough to care, and strong enough to try to endure the lack of reciprocation.

"Hello, Kristoff." Her eyes were as sincere as they always were; she was a terrible liar and knew it, so she had given up on the idea altogether.

I nodded curtly back at her. "Miss Anna," I clipped. It was formal and stiff, but it was as warm as I could make it from underneath the mask. It was at least warmer than her sister's greeting, or the lack thereof. I think that's why she smiled at me as I continued on down the hallway, going about the rest of my uneventful routine as senior bodyguard to the cold-hearted and eccentric CEO of one of the most powerful corporations in the world. At least the pay was good.

— —

It had been almost a week, and it was golf day, the third Sunday of every month. I don't even know why she played, she was honestly terrible at it, but we all clapped anyway whenever she eventually sank the ball into each hole; to challenge her eccentric side would be to challenge her frigid and cold-hearted side as well, and no one had ever escaped that without some kind of frostbite. Out of all of her strange hobbies—none of which she really seemed to actually enjoy—golf was the most puzzling. Elsa never liked to make mistakes; she didn't tolerate it in herself nor in others. I had been lucky enough to master the art of details very quickly in her service, but her own skill at it always seemed to escape her on the course. Underneath her sometimes odd appearance, she actually concealed a large amount of grace and coordination, but it always seemed to evaporate whenever she was near a golf club.

A new hole. Elsa squared off at the tee, and after a moment, swung, hearing the whoosh of the driver and nothing more. She sighed in irritation and repositioned, hands clenching and unclenching, clad in white gloves. Another pause, another swing, another empty swish of air, another groan. Sven and I stood in the shade, clad in our immaculate black suits with our earpieces and concealed handguns, standing besides a few of the other staff members, keeping watch from a small distance, close but not too close, just how she liked it.

Elsa resumed her stance, her shoulders set, feet planted apart, determination rolling off of her in waves. A long pause ensued in which no one moved. It wasn't really any different from the others, but it still felt different, almost cold, though there was no wind. The others shifted slightly, and it seemed that I wasn't the only one who had noticed the change.

Her arms raised the club behind her, over her head, pausing again, before coming down and swinging once more. A satisfying crack filled the air as the white ball sailed through the air and down the field. Everyone clapped. The air began to warm, and I felt slightly uncomfortable in my dark suit. Sven was acting as caddy, as usual, and took the golf club that she handed to him without turning her head, though whether her eyes glanced over at him was impossible to determine, as she was wearing shades again.

I took my place beside her. "An excellent hit, ma'am," I complimented dryly. I didn't really care, she didn't really care, and we both knew it.

"Don't patronize me." She knew it wasn't impressive, I knew it wasn't impressive, and we both didn't really care.

An hour later, we were returning to the manor on foot, as the entire 18 hole golf course was situated on the grounds along with a sizeable pond, a helipad, and a stable full of horses that no one ever rode. There was much more than that, but none of it was hardly worth mentioning. Elsa's scores from her solitary game on the green were horrendous, though relatively better than they had been in the past. She wasn't happy about it, though it wasn't really that surprising. It must be stressful to continuously strive for perfection.

Anna awaited us at the door. She didn't watch Elsa play. She had at first, when her elder sister had first decided to take up the sport, but Elsa had told her to leave. To the best of my knowledge, it was the last time she had ever spoken to Anna. That was over two months ago. The redhead watched us passively as we passed into the mansion, and not a word was spoken. She smiled at me before giving a light greeting and walked away down another hall. I realized then that she had only ever said it to me, not Sven.

Elsa had returned to her study, a large high-ceilinged room, usually silent except for the ticking of a massive and ancient grandfather clock. She sat down at the desk, placed her elbows upon it and began to massage her temples; she'd been doing that a lot lately.

"Coffee," she barked, the command sending Sven scurrying out of the room. We were alone now. The silence never really bothered me; before I had accepted the offer for the position as Elsa's bodyguard, I was living a quiet post-military life in a cabin far to the north, with no company other than the wind, the snow, and the occasional reindeer. Now though, in that room, I felt myself become oddly restless. Perhaps it was the clock—its ticking was deafening against the quiet of the room—or perhaps it was because Ms. Arendelle had for some reason not dismissed me from the office.

Her hands dropped from the side of her head, and lay clasped together before her. Her pale head looked up at me, platinum blonde bangs framing her face, the rest plaited in a long, thick, solitary braid tossed over her shoulder.

"Why are you still here?" she asked, perturbed.

"Would you prefer for me to wait outside?"

"I..." she trailed off and sighed as she sank into the leather seat, taking off the aviators and tossing them lightly onto the desk before rubbing her eyes with slender, manicured hands. There were very dark bags under the irises, and the eyes themselves were almost bloodshot. "No, it's fine, I guess. It's just different, that's all. It's weird."

"Ma'am, are you alright?" I felt quite concerned, my job entailed not only protecting her from physical harm, but guaranteeing her health and safety in general.

"Do I seem unwell to you?"

"In all honesty, yes. Have you not been sleeping well?" She frowned at me in confusion and raised a hand to her temple, where her shades would have been if she were wearing them. The hand clenched tightly.

"No. I haven't." Anxious hands stroked at her braid as she looked out the window. The afternoon light touched her face, highlighting her freckles, and causing the dark marks to appear even more severe. I almost winced.

"When was the last time you tried to sleep? If I may,"

"Thursday night."

It's Sunday afternoon.

I wasn't sure what to say. I was partly rendered speechless by the revelation, and was then unsure whether I should admonish her for it; If I made one wrong move, the situation could end rather badly. She turned around and looked me in the eyes, intense crystalline blue, the hue that emerges from thick ice. I hadn't seen those eyes in over a week. She chuckled cynically. "It's funny, you're the only one I can trust now..."

I wasn't quite sure what that was supposed to mean. "What about Anna?" I asked.

She shook her head sadly, and seemed to curl in on herself. She sighed, "as you are a senior member of my staff, and charged with maintaining my health and safety, there is a matter that you should be aware of-"

The door opened, and both of our heads snapped up to it, Elsa quickly grabbing her shades. Sven stood on the threshold, a cup of steaming coffee in his hand. He looked between Elsa and I, trying to figure out why she suddenly looked so pissed off.

"You're supposed to  _knock_." She snapped. An expectant hand stretched out, and a chastised and thoroughly embarrassed Sven handed over the drink. She took it and drank from it heavily, grimacing suddenly, before placing the cup down and settling a glare back at Sven.

"Unbelievable."

Sven seemed confused, getting an almost deer in the headlights look. His eyes flicked at me for a moment before he spoke, his voice wavering, "ma'am?"

"Mocha latte,  _two_  cream,  _three_ sugar." She dangled the cup, "this only has  _one_  cream and  _one_  sugar in it."

Poor Sven's eyes dramatically widened practically to the size of dinner plates, and he cringed. Elsa was very particular about details, almost to the point of obsession. She slammed the cup back onto the desk, a few droplets leaping from the small opening at the top, and leaned back heavily in the chair, crossing her legs and folding her arms, "Please, tell me,  _Sven_ , why the  _hell_  should I put up with you?"

"I..." his hands were beginning to shake.

Elsa stood suddenly from the chair, her arm knocking into the drink, causing it to tumble and spill, splashing scalding, too-bitter coffee on the floor, desk chair, and Elsa's white pants. She yelled in frustration, her hands fisting into her hair, her arms and hands trembling.

"Ma'am!" Sven and I cried in unison, only managing to take a single step forward before she put out a hand to stop us.

"Kristoff, coffee. Now."

I pursed my lips, hoping I wouldn't regret what I was about to say, "Perhaps you should just rest, ma'am."

Sven whipped around to face me in alarm, as if I had decided to make my last stand and play the valiant, tragic hero. Elsa seemed furious at the challenge. We stared each other down in silence.

"Coffee."

"Sleep."

" _Coffee._ "

Sven's terrified head looked back and forth between us, as if the confrontation was a tennis rally with the ball on fire.

"You have a meeting tomorrow morning—and with all due respect, I am tasked with ensuring your health and safety, and I feel it is prudent that you get some rest immediately."

She bit her lip, hands clenched at her sides, her head down. The coffee was staining her pant leg. "Fine." She turned and left the room.

I released the breath of tension I had been unconsciously holding and began to follow her. Halfway to the door, I realized Sven hadn't moved. I frowned at him, "What are you standing there for?"

He was trembling violently, and peered up at me, "Am I fired?"

I smirked, "No, not yet, now come on. If you manage not to fuck up again today, she may forget about it by tomorrow."

He nodded, "I hope so..." He looked over at the light brown mess on the floor. "I'm going to notify one of the housekeepers."

I grunted in response and left the room to find my charge; we may have been within the safety of the manor, but I still felt the need to not stray too far. I hoped that she would be able to sleep well.

— —

There were no sunglasses today, and her eyes were clear and focused. That was a good sign. The trip to the board room was as uneventful as always, though she had been sparing me quick and furtive glances ever since we left the manor. The sudden acknowledgement and attention was a bit unsettling, but it was perhaps somewhat justified, considering the very memorable events from yesterday.

_You're the only one I can trust now..._

Was I really? Surely there were others, the other senior staff members, a friend perhaps, or...Anna? Why didn't she trust Anna? Why  _couldn't_ she trust Anna? Her own sister, her benevolent flesh and blood, who had never shown her anything but sincere and heartfelt kindness, even when Elsa had continually spurned her again and again. Was it something hidden in their past? A falling out of some kind? While my charge had her moments of callousness, she had at least shown some sort of acknowledgement to those in the path of her storm, but with Anna, it was as if she wasn't even worth the time, invisible. Perhaps it had to do with what she was going to tell me before Sven had interrupted us.

As we neared the plainly elegant wooden doors that led to our destination, Elsa's face settled into her own impassive and stern mask, wearing a righteous, self-important attitude befitting a wielder of immense power, an arrogance not marred by cockiness or concealed ineptitude.

As it was just a board conference, and not an exclusive meeting, Sven and I were allowed to be inside the room while business was conducted. It was about as boring as I had expected it to be; the department heads gave their reports of the past month's developments, addressed their mundane concerns, which were answered, and they then discussed what was to be done next. I always blocked it out, as it wasn't my area of expertise, and I didn't understand half of it anyway. Since Elsa never seemed perturbed by it, or in any way distressed, it probably wasn't much of a threat to her anyway.

From what snippets did manage to catch my uninterested ears, there was an upcoming merger of some sort with South Isles Corp, but my charge of course never spoke to me about it, and, as I said, it wasn't any of my concern.

Sven, however, seemed much more interested in the discussion than I was. His eyes followed the sounds of pompous voices when they should have been monitoring and scanning the rest of the room. I glared at the side of his head with disapproval, but he didn't seem to notice.

The day was adhering exactly to the usual routine until after the meeting adjourned. We followed Ms. Arendelle out of the conference room, but instead of making her usual beeline for the elevator, she headed down a separate hallway to her right. A ways down it, I realized that she was heading to her corporate office, a room that she rarely, if ever, used. She swiped her hand over its surface, and the latch unlocked with a click as it read her chip.

She pushed open the door and leveled a stare at Sven, "stand guard outside."

"Yes ma'am."

He positioned himself by the door as I followed my charge into the window-lit room, the door closing behind me. I stood at the entrance, hands clasped before me, feet apart, on guard and out of her way. She walked to the edge of the stately desk in the room's center, before turning on a raised heel and sitting against the edge of it. She faced me with folded arms and intense blue eyes, locked onto my own like poised throwing knives. I swallowed internally.

"We did not finish our discussion from yesterday."

"Was there more you wished to tell me, Ms. Elsa?"

She fidgeted, her strong gaze suddenly broken along with her mask, as she looked down at her feet and bit her lip in an extremely rare gesture of hesitance, of fear.

"There is nothing that I  _wish_ to tell you, only something that I  _must_ tell you."

I waited in silence for her to continue, but she did not elaborate. "Ma'am?"

Her brows furrowed, she still hadn't looked up either, "I have...a condition," she began, placing her weight back on her feet and beginning to pace the room. "Though I suppose it would be more apt to call it a curse, from the nature of it..."

She stopped pacing, exhaled wearily, and murmured, "the rumors about the accidents...they're all true, " her eyes flicked up at mine, "but they aren't."

"How do you mean?" I asked, puzzled.

"They did not happen in the way they say, it was all covered up." Her gaze had darkened, and her hands were clenched at her sides, "there were no 'engine failures', no 'faulty wiring', no 'cracked support beams', no 'gas leaks', it was none of that..." Her voice trailed off weakly as her arms gripped each other over her stomach, hugging herself as if she feared she would crack and shatter into pieces. She looked so defeated and vulnerable that I feared she would never speak again.

"What was it, Ms. Elsa?" I coaxed in the most gentle tone I had ever used on the job—the most gentle tone I've ever used with anyone at all. I resisted the urge to take a step forward, fearing that she would just back away from me. She did anyway, as if my prodding had represented the same thing. I noticed she was trembling.

She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head, "No...no, I-I shouldn't...I can't tell you," she shrank away further, backed up against the desk again.

I felt myself become overcome with a sudden rise of anger. I stepped forward, "As you, yourself, stated, my place as your bodyguard requires me to ensure both your safety and your health, and that this matter is something I would need to know of to properly do that." I sighed, and continued more calmly, "What really happened, Ms. Elsa?"

She shook her head again, "This was a mistake," she began to pace again, clutching herself even harder, "I should never have said anything...I shouldn't-" she took a deep breath and pressed her hands to her temples and began muttering something to herself continuously, like a mantra.

"With all due respect, Ms. Elsa, I believe it is urgent that you tell me about this."

She was still muttering.

"Ms. Elsa!"

She stiffened and exhaled. Her back straightened, and her hands unclenched and lowered to her sides calmly. She turned slowly, and looked me in the eyes. Hers were cold, like the merciless frigidity of a northern winter storm. Her mask had returned. "We will speak of this no more."

I clenched my teeth, and reluctantly held back my fury as I stared her down, "Yes ma'am."

She held my gaze for another moment before flicking away dismissively and heading for the door, which I opened for her, and then followed her through.

It wasn't until I had re-entered the comparably warmer hall that I realized how deathly cold the office was.


	2. Beware The Frozen Heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I will be attempting to keep up with a weekly update schedule for the future.

There was an incident today. It's only been three days since Elsa refused to tell me about her condition, and the subject hasn't been mentioned since. In fact, she's been actively taking steps to ignore and avoid me. There have been no more passing glances, she hasn't spoken to me at all, and almost all of my tasks that required any interaction with her have been delegated to Sven. The fact that she was willing to put up with that young man's incompetence really showed how determined she was to stay away from me. Naturally, I was worried.

Her efforts were the reason why I was standing guard down the hall from her study while she was inside with him. The distance was much too great for my tastes, though she had never cared before how close or far we were if she couldn't see us. As it was, I was too far away to protect her if anything were to happen. Then again, the chances of someone getting into the manor and past the rest of the estate's vigilant security were impossibly slim.

The explosion rattled the walls violently, and knocked over both vases and uncoordinated staff members alike. I ran full tilt towards the ominous cloud of dust that had appeared, one hand clenched around my gun, and the other clutching a handkerchief to my mouth for the impending smoke. Oddly, I didn't encounter anything.

As I neared the study, the only things that seemed out-of-place in the hall were the thin clouds of dust and the massive, shining pillar of blue and white crystal protruding through the wall like a massive frozen dagger, fringes of destroyed drywall and insulation littering the floor. The spike itself was a solid, translucent rod nearly half a meter across that was pointed wickedly sharp at the end. A cold mist began to seep out from beneath the door to the study, mixing with and then overtaking the dust that had once permeated the air.

"Ms. Elsa!" I yelled as I barged in, gun aimed before me until I nearly slipped on the floor. The entire room was frozen over, as if a bomb of liquid nitrogen had gone off within the space. Sheets of crackling ice, pulsing with energy like the rhythm of a heartbeat, covered everything, the floors, the walls, the ceiling, the furniture, even Sven, who stared in shock at the desk, or rather, where the desk had been. The edifice of furniture was now on the ceiling, suspended by two of the countless ice spikes that were all over the room. Some were hanging as stalactites, and others protruded from the floor like rogue, serpentine beasts, arching and twisting and burrowing into the walls.

Elsa stood out in the open in a position that would have been behind the desk if it were still on the ground. She was frozen, not of ice, but out of shock. She turned sharply at my boisterous call as it echoed through the frigid space. The ice distorted sharply behind her like small ripples in a pond.

I could hardly believe it. I was staring directly at it all, but it hardly even registered in my mind. I kept telling myself that it was unreal, that it had to be some sort of vivid dream, some kind of illusion. These things just couldn't happen. Magic wasn't  _real_ ; it was the sad truth of the world.

But then what was it? I asked myself. What could be the cause of this if not magic? Unless it was some sort of insanely powerful cryokinesis, but was that possible either? Perhaps it was some kind of freak air conditioning accident? No, absurd. There was no way it could be that, even if that was what the authorities would likely say. This was something more, and there was no denying it, no matter how badly I wanted to.

"Bjorgman..." Her voice was quiet, hardly above a whisper, but I heard it clearly; it seemed to resonate with the ice around her. The pulsations quickened.

"What...happened, Ms. Arendelle?" I found my own voice to be just as hushed, still struggling to process what my eyes were showing me, what the goosebumps on my skin were telling me. My charge said nothing; she likely didn't hear me, as the ice did not seem to carry my voice like it did for hers. If she did hear me, perhaps she was simply too stunned to say anything more. I went over to Sven, feet unsteady on the ice.

"Sven, what happened?"

He said nothing. He didn't even move, or look at me.

"Sven, hey!" I grabbed his shoulder and tried to shake him, jumping away sharply at how cold and stiff he was; it was like touching a statue. He still hadn't moved, or reacted in any way. Cautiously I touched his throat, feeling for a pulse, but found only bitterly cold stillness. There was nothing to indicate that Sven was still alive. With a sinking feeling, I saw the full extent of the icy frost that coated him. Here he stood before me, in a room full of ice, unmoving and completely unaware of his surroundings, because he was frozen solid.

Sven was dead.

— —

The meager light of twilight shone softly on the white walls of Arendelle Manor's exterior, though it was almost entirely blocked out by the bright alternating shine of police lights. The large circular driveway was filled with emergency vehicles and personnel. The same light shone in through the glass window of the study, which was now mostly thawed, but still damp with liquid. The large spires had been chiseled apart and discreetly carted away by the senior staff, leaving only the damage the ice had caused to the room itself. Sven still stood in the center; the housekeepers were too afraid to move him for fear that he would shatter, as the ice that was encasing him was also securing him to the ground.

Elsa sat on the remains of her desk, which was back on the floor again with gaping holes marking where it had been impaled. Her feet rested on the edge of the wooden surface with her knees tucked under her chin, and her arms wrapped around her shins. I stood by the door, inside the room, keeping watch, as I always tried to do, and as I had failed to do earlier.

My eyes passed over Sven again. If I had been faster, I might've been able to save him, or so I had thought foolishly, stupidly. It was likely the explosion of ice itself, which had spurred me to action in the first place, that had killed him. He was dead before I even had a chance. As much as it was technically my charge's fault, I couldn't bring myself to blame her; had she of kept me at my usual post, I would likely be dead as well. It was no wonder why she had been pushing me away all this time.

With the revelation, everything seemed so much clearer now, and yet the only new thing I could see was more fog lying before and obscuring a few simple truths. How long had she had this "condition"? Did anyone else know? How many others had fallen victim to her? Was this the real reason why no one ever lasted very long here?

The more questions that came to my mind, the more Elsa seemed to draw into herself. I suddenly felt a strong yet unfamiliar desire to comfort her, but I knew that trying to do so would only make things worse. She wanted to be left alone. I was only here because it was my duty to protect her from the world outside, and evidently from herself as well.

The official record, the story that was told to the authorities, and the account that the outside world would use for their gossip, was that it was a ruptured gas line that caused the explosion. I'm not sure how many people actually believed it, but all of those who would speak out were paid off with a decent amount of hush money, so it didn't really matter. Besides, no one had even been allowed near the study, and as such, no one knew about Sven.

The head steward of the estate, a senior staff member by the name of Kai Lancemen, was currently outside speaking with the chief of police about the incident. From the sound of their voices, which were still clear from within the manor, it was becoming a bit of a heated argument, or on one side, at least. Kai had in the past proven to be both extremely loyal and extremely level-headed, so the yelling was likely coming entirely from the chief. The frustrated slam of a hand on metal confirmed it, and the volume of the incoherent shouting increased. I hoped Kai would be able to handle the damage control on his own.

I noticed Elsa curl in on herself further and shiver.

"Are you alright ma'am?" I asked.

She said nothing, of course. I partly wondered why I had even bothered to say anything; she hadn't replied or said anything back to me since I had first entered the room hours ago, which was long before the explosion had led to concerned neighbors calling the police, and the arrival of the red and blue armada that was now assembled in front of the mansion.

I abruptly realized with sudden clarity that I was missing something embarrassingly obvious. Though the ice was gone, the room was still chilled enough for breath to appear in puffs of condensed vapor, and Elsa was only wearing a thin white blouse—which was now dirty—along with a short pencil skirt, but no shoes; her calves and feet were only covered by dark, thin pantyhose.

I shrugged off my jacket and approached her, holding the garment before me, but she stuck out a hand to stop me, not even turning her head to look.

"Ms. Elsa, if I may-"

"There's no need. I'm fine." Her words were followed by yet another small cloud.

I frowned deeply, her stubbornness over the past few days had exhausted the entirety my patience. To  _hell_ with polite subtlety. "It's cold enough to see your breath, and you are not adequately dressed. You'll catch a cold. Put on the jacket." In other circumstances, I would have winced inwardly at the sharpness of my words. Such direct speech was akin to asking for a death sentence from her.

She smiled bitterly, as if at some dark and private joke. "If its such a big deal, wouldn't you need to keep yours on then?"

"Your safety comes before mine, ma'am. My own well-being is insignificant," I replied honestly and plainly.

Shocked frozen irises snapped up and glared up at me indignantly, "how can you say that?"

I frowned, shrinking back slightly under the weight of her gaze. I was puzzled by the outburst; she was usually able to keep her emotions in check, even better than I could. "Because it is true," I stated obviously, "I am your bodyguard, your guardian. I am meant to protect you. You come first."

She shook her head sadly and looked away.

Still somewhat emboldened by her sudden bout of talkativeness, I pressed on, "I assume this... _power_  of yours was the condition you were referring to before?"

She said nothing. I took it as a lack of denial.

I sighed, "If I had known, this may have gone-"

"You are in no position to chastise me," she snapped, interrupting me.

Miffed, I started again, "If I had  _known_ -"

"What difference would that have made?!" She was yelling now, her arms spread angrily. I noticed that she had gotten to her feet. She was beginning to choke up, "If I had told you, you...you would've insisted on being in here, and then... you'd be dead too." Her hands fell with her gaze, and balled into fists at her sides.

Hearing concern from Elsa was rare, especially when directed at her staff. It was...unsettling, almost much as the unwelcome swelling of pride that I felt in my chest.

I leered at her sternly, masking my reaction to her words, "Did you do this on purpose?"

Her arms snaked up and gripped each other over her stomach, "Of course not..."

"Then you can't blame yourself for it." I exhaled, "I admit that I don't know how any of this works, but perhaps there's a way to control this... ability of yours."

"You mean my curse..."

"I don't believe in curses."

"Even though you've just witnessed one?"

"If it is a curse as you insist, then who cursed you? And when?"

She looked away, "I don't know, and I've had this for as long as I can remember. Why does that matter anyway? It could be a curse on the family line for all you know."

"Does Anna have it too, then?"

The temperature plummeted even further as Elsa's expression darkened. I could faintly hear the crackling of frost around me.

"No. She doesn't."

"Are you sure?"

"More than anything."

I sighed, "Well it doesn't change things. I'm going to help you learn to control this power of yours. Also," I draped the jacket over her shoulders, and she did not resist this time. She instead fingered at the edge of the sleeves. She didn't seem to react to the warmth at all, though I could definitely feel its absence.

She stared at the floor, "there is no need..."

"I assure you that there is."

She smiled as she shook her head again, "the cold never bothered me."

I looked over at Sven grimly, and saw his glassy, dead eyes staring blankly at the wall, frozen in time, "I suppose that's to be expected."

— —

I lay on my bed, staring at the ceiling, still clad in my dust-laden clothes from the day—shoes and all—with my eyes in the distance and my head in the clouds. My charge had retired for the night not long after the police had left the premises, and so I elected to do the same. Sven still stood in the cold study; I wondered idly if he would ever melt.

The air conditioning system quieted, and the room was plunged into a silence so profound that it brought the same uncomfortably lost feeling to the ears that pitch darkness brings to the eyes. Perturbed, I rose from the bed and left the room with a walk in mind; my brain was hardly letting me sleep anyway after the day's events.

I stood in the dark, moonlit corridor, my wayward feet now unsure of where to take me. I looked down the hall at the door to Elsa's room, and after silently deliberating for a moment, turned away and headed in the opposite direction.

The end of the hallway opened up into the large entry chamber that housed the main staircase along with several other hallways branching off in different directions. I was on the second floor, and approached the nearest railing, resting folded arms on it as I looked out at the room below and before me. The light from outside shone in here as well, and reflected off of the black and white checkered marble that made up the floor, illuminating the large space.

Elsa had ice powers, ice powers that she was unable to fully control. I sighed wearily at the thought. While knowing was certainly better than not, especially for something like this, it was still troubling. It made my job a  _lot_ more difficult, and had caused me to question almost everything I had believed in. If such a thing as her powers was possible, what else was? Were there others out there like her? Would they be looking for her? Regardless of the answers, it was obviously imperative that no one should find out about her ability, which made it even more important that she learned to control it.

I was suddenly ripped away from my thoughts by the sound of an impact of some kind from downstairs. Instincts and training taking over, I steeled myself as I slowly crept toward the stairs, my gun drawn, the safety removed. Upon reaching the bottom of the stairs, I glanced around at the different dark hallways, unsure which one the sound had come from, as it had echoed throughout and from seemingly all directions. With nothing to go on, I hazarded a guess and started with the one on my right.

The sound of my footsteps transitioned from muffled to silent as the cold and colorless marble gave way to a dark maroon carpet. When the light from the entryway failed to assist me, I affixed a small flashlight from my pocket to the underside of my gun's barrel, and continued on into the dim—but slightly more visible—corridor. I still hadn't heard anything since the initial noise, and was beginning to worry that I might have chosen the wrong hallway, when I saw something orange catch the light. It stiffened and turned around sharply, exposing pale freckled skin and wide, guilty eyes of oceanic teal.

"Ms. Anna," I nearly gasped, dropping my gun-wielding arms quickly, and removing the flashlight from the firearm to be able to hold the beam before me. I frowned at the young woman. "What are you doing up at this hour?" I questioned stiffly.

"Oh! Uh, hi! Um..I was just uhm..." She trailed off, eyes looking over at nothing, mouth slightly agape, before snapping back as if nothing had happened, "did something happen today?"

"I suppose," I replied carefully with a frown. While it would have made sense for Anna to know about Elsa's condition, their short and cold interactions in the past made me doubt that was actually the case. "You didn't hear about it?"

She shrugged, and looked down at her hands, which were knitted before her. She was dressed in a pale green nightgown, and her hair was disheveled, as well as loosed from its twin braids, allowing the flowing amber locks to cascade down in spirals as they attempted to retain the shape of the plaits, clinging strongly to their past. "No one ever really tells me anything around here," she smiled nervously, her eyes shifting about awkwardly. She perked up, causing her bangs to bounce lightly, "Have you seen Sven lately?"

I tensed involuntarily. I hoped she didn't notice.

She did. Concern laced her expression, "Is something wrong? Is he alright?"

My mouth was open, but I was unable to speak. I cursed the cracks in my mask. "Perhaps this isn't the best time, Ms. Anna."

She laughed dismissively, "Just Anna is fine, seriously, you're practically family."

My brow furrowed in confusion at that.

Sensing that she said something odd, she put out her hands in a placating gesture, "Oh! No, I don't—well, I mean I do but, um..." she sighed and began to wring her hands, "Nevermind that, though I'd still like it better if you'd call me Anna. Just Anna." She smiled with a slight tilt of her head. It was the most endearing thing I had ever seen, and I resolved then and there to never let it fade if I could help it. If Elsa did not wish for me to tell the grim truth of things to her sister, then I wouldn't say a word about it. Reason be damned.

There was still another matter that had to be addressed, however. "Very well, Anna, but what are you doing up this late? Could it not wait until morning?"

"Well, there's people out and about in the mornings, and during the rest of the day..." She trailed off again, eyes fixed back to her hands. It seemed that awkwardness was simply a general trait of hers.

"And that matters why, exactly?"

A blush began to creep into her fair, freckled complexion, "They wouldn't have let me see it..."

"See what?"

She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, and my eyes involuntarily followed the entire motion. I drew them away forcefully, and focused them back on her own eyes, unwilling to acknowledge the forbidden feeling that was building within me.

Anna shrugged, "The housekeepers were clustered around this one area earlier, and I also thought I heard sirens and was worried that maybe someone got hurt or something but when I tried to ask them or get near where they were they'd just shoo me off and be all-" her face flushed an even deeper red and she cleared her throat, "Sorry, I tend to ramble a bit, well, a lot actually but it's just kind of like a- Oh! There I go again!" She laughed nervously.

"You should go back to bed," I suggested, "it's not safe to wander around the halls at night, especially in the dark."

"But that's what makes it so much more fun!" she was smiling excitedly, but clammed up again upon seeing the almost horrified look that was apparently on my face, and she retreated once again, "though I guess you wouldn't really agree, being a bodyguard and everything. 'Safety first" and all that..." she laughed again, and the silence drew on as her remark fell flat, just as awkward as most of our exchange. "I think I'm just going to go..." she began walking backwards, but bumped into a stand, knocking it over with a thud that echoed down the halls. She winced, "not again...oh!" She picked it up before I had a chance to assist, looked back at me, and waved a small wave, moving just her hand, "bye!"

I only just managed to prevent myself from returning the gesture. "Do you need me to walk you back?"

"No, no I'll be fine, I-I can find my way there quite easily," her broad smile became wistful, "I've lived here my whole life, after all." A dark and unpleasant cloud began to brew over her head, causing a frown to spread across her face, and into my heart. My mask broke in that moment, or more accurately, shattered, but she had already turned away, and did not see. She ascended the stairs into the dark and I stood alone in the hallway, feeling even more awake and restless than I had before.

— —

The week had passed, and it was now Monday morning again. Elsa was still as cold and collected as always, and Anna was still her bubbly and optimistic self. It was as if the memorable events of last Thursday hadn't even happened, though we all knew otherwise. Elsa simply hid it with her own mask, and Anna with her blissful ignorance of the actual tragedy.

I kept an even more attentive eye on my charge, for I now knew of the destructive power that lay within her, and how urgent it was for her to control it. I began to notice little mannerisms and gestures of hers that I hadn't before, some merely natural nervous ticks, such as hugging her arms to her chest, and tucking her hair behind her ear, and others were a bit less natural, like frost spreading across clenched hands under the table, and drops in temperature falling in time with her surges of fear, stress, and anger. She was trying to hold it all in, and the power was leaking through any small hole it could find. At some point it would all simply burst out of her, the change like a trickling stream compared to a nuclear explosion, but not of blistering fire, or poisonous radiation, but of frigid ice, and if just a drop of that fearsome cold could ice a room and freeze a man solid, one shudders to think what ungodly chaos and havoc could be unleashed by a complete meltdown.

We were alone for the moment in her office at the Frost Industries headquarters, which she had elected to utilize until the losses and damages from the study at the manor were dealt with and compensated for. I noted absently that she still hadn't considered getting a replacement for Sven. In the past, the new rookie would be on the job the day after the previous one's dismissal, or even later that day. Of course, none of those bodyguards had died in front of her, or been frozen solid.

Elsa sat poised at her desk, seated regally in the high-backed leather office chair, one hand grasping a tablet that she was reading off of, the other with the elbow resting on the desk, and the wrist swirling about daintily, absentmindedly. She appeared extremely focused, and looked vaguely pissed off, announcing the return of her eccentric and slightly whimsical side. I stood by the door, in my usual position, doing what I usually did...as usual.

Something white and pale blue began to swirl about her fingers, sparkling like dust, growing layer upon layer until they began to take the shape of small snowflakes-

"Ms. Elsa, your hand!"

She looked up and saw the swirling mass, her previously complacent expression twisting violently into panic as she backed out from the desk and jumped to her feet, sending the cold sphere across the desk, and the tablet against the polished wood floor where it clattered loudly with a heavy and brutal crash. It was now likely cracked, if not broken. She waved her hand about as if to swat a hornet, trying to shake the trailing sleet from it, and accidentally sent a lump of snow hurtling at the wall, the force of the impact shaking the surface and decimating the ice into chunks and powder.

She was breathing hard, almost hyperventilating. The room began to cool rapidly.

I approached slowly, "Ms. Elsa,"

She pressed her hands to her temples and began to pace quickly, her heels clacking on the floor, her lips moving, quickly repeating something over and over, a vaguely familiar mantra.

"Conceal, don't feel. Conceal, don't feel. Conceal, don't feel. Conceal, don't feel..."

She stopped and squeezed her eyes shut, her hands balled into fists, her teeth clenching. Frost began to crackle across the floor.

She was holding it in, and the cracks were widening; the reactor was reaching critical mass.

"No!" I had yelled before I could even warn myself against it.

She started at the sound, and jets of sleet shot out in random directions as she stared up at me with wide, fearful eyes. One of the beams hit me with the force of a bullet, knocking me off of my feet and sending me tumbling.

"You need to let it go," I said, trying to stand back up, determination pulling me up, and then forward, as I approached her. I don't know where my words had come from, but they felt right.

" _What?_ " She almost screeched, confusion and terror swirling about her in an icy swarm. She did not seem to share my sentiment.

"If you keep holding it in, you'll burst! You have to let it out!"

She shook her head violently. The blizzard picked up speed, the frozen particles whistling past my ears, screaming like banshees. She stared at the floor, clutching her hands to her chest, "but that's..."

"Direct it at something!" I had reached the desk, and picked up the cracked remains of the ruined tablet. I held it out before me, and the next thing I knew, I was airborne again. I couldn't feel my hands. The walls shook when my back collided with it, and I fell forward onto my hands and knees, my ears ringing.

When I recovered, the swirling storm was gone, and I exhaled a cloud of vapor. I stood unsteadily, and saw a blonde woman before me, dressed in a white suit jacket and pants, with trembling hands and bulging cerulean irises.A slab of ice lay on the floor between us. With a jolt, I realized it was actually the tablet, or rather that it  _had been_ the tablet. It wasn't frozen over. It was just ice, complete solid ice. I tore my eyes away from it and looked back to my charge, "are you alright ma'am?"

She said nothing, but locked eyes with me, and despite her obvious state of distress, nothing frozen was emanating from her in any way. I took that as a good sign, and with a barely concealed sigh of relief, stood and limped over to the wall to turn up the thermostat.


	3. Control

Small, light amber dust motes flew out and embraced the frigid air as leather-gloved hands snapped the worn, black moleskine shut with a clap. A groan let out from the red-headed woman as she tossed the worn book at her bedroll.

"There's nothing good in here!" She whined petulantly, crossing her arms. A cold draft blew in through the rocky opening of the flame-lit cavern, and she shifted the two heavily clothed limbs to instead clutch at her midsection and shiver as her cheeks flushed with the brisk cold.

A young man with wild hair and a long nose sat by their meager fire, feeling at it with his naked hands, "How do you know? You just started reading it."

"It's just his stupid old journal! I've been having to sift through all the boring crap in it to try and find something that's actually relevant, but I'm still still not getting  _any_ closer to finding anything about  _it_!"

A third voice sighed heavily, and the other two turned to look at its owner, who was a massive and sturdily built man sitting cross-legged across from the wild-haired boy, elbows on his knees, and his hands clasped under his chin. The redhead whirled on him, "oh what, and I suppose  _you_ have some brilliant idea?"

He shrugged and nodded toward the book, "just keep reading until you either finish it or find what you're looking for. It's the only thing we  _can_ do."

She groaned and started pacing, shaking her head, "But it's so  _boring_ , I swear to god, if I try reading another damned page of that thing, I'm going to...to do...  _something..._ " She trailed off and slumped down onto the cold tile floor, arms once again folded, angrily this time.

The boy smirked and raised an eyebrow at her, " _something_ , eh?" A hard shove knocked him over and he chuckled good-naturedly, "alright, well if you're tired of it, maybe me and Marshmallow over here can look at it!"

The large man rolled his eyes in exasperation at the nickname; by this point he knew the little man was obviously calling him by it in order to spite him for some reason. "Olaf, that's not my name."

The boy was still smiling, "Sure it isn't, Marshall-mallow!"

The worn, leather-bound diary collided with the side of his head, and a hand instinctively rose to clutch at the assaulted spot. He snapped around to look at where the offending projectile had come from. "Ow, hey!"

The redhead stalked over to her bedroll, "If you're going to read it, you might as well do it now. The faster you do that, the faster we can get out of this freezing hole." She flopped down unceremoniously onto the sleeping bag, and covered herself with one of the large furs that were lying on the floor. "I'm going to bed."

The two men looked over at her for a moment, and then at each other, before the smaller one shrugged and picked up the book, lightly rubbing his temple where a sizable bruise was slowly forming. He spread open the old journal, and began to flick through the yellowed pages. His eyes widened fractionally and he dashed back to a page he had just passed, "Oh, now this looks promising."

Marshall scooted forward a bit and looked over at Olaf with rapt attention. The boy cleared his throat and began, "The method that I had helped Ms. Elsa establish on Monday was apparently working out quite well for her..."

— —

In addition to my mundane duties, the past week has been spent at the manor in a rarely visited and even more rarely used parlor on the third floor, where she had insisted that I help her practice and master different ways to direct, control, and safely discharge her pent up power. She was still adamant about believing it to be a curse, but at least she was willing to try and do something about it.

She stood in the room's center, staring intently at the ornately carved end table that had been sacrificed for today's session. I paced about behind her, watching her perceptively.

"While focus is important, you must not allow yourself to become too tense. You need to work with it, not against it, or you'll just end up hurting yourself."

"That was oddly insightful, considering that you have no idea what you're talking about."

I gave an odd half-shrug and conceded, "True, I don't really know anything about...telekinetic powers, but I do have knowledge of several forms of martial arts, half of which you have likely never heard of."

"I dont see what that has to do with anything."

"To know how to subdue and defeat another person, you must know how they work, both physically and mentally. The same goes for yourself." I looked over at her form again; her posture was still rigid, her shoulders especially. "You need to relax," I stated.

She huffed arrogantly, "fine." Her back loosened a little—barely—but it was progress at least. I sighed inwardly. As she was a major cog in the expansive clockwork mechanism that was the business world, it wasn't surprising that relaxation didn't come to her very easily. I didn't push her anymore, remembering her self-deprecating opinions of failure and success.

While it wasn't much—and it never was—the training was working a lot better than I expected. Since we had begun, she had managed to recreate what had happened at the corporate office on monday, and we were able to confirm that she had, somehow, converted the cracked tablet into solid ice, preserving every ridge, crack, dent, and changing its composition at its most basic level. Upon seeing her replicate the incident with an old binder, all I did was nod. There wasn't a sliver of surprise or fear present, nor even a single thought of denial. I felt that I had lately been in a permanent state of shock of some kind, standing unfazed as every single day has slammed me with more and more examples and evidence of the impossible, and broken down the walls in my mind upon which I had scrawled my understanding of the universe and the world around me. I would just stand there and nod, accepting it at face value, because I was unable to do anything else. It scared me beyond anything, and yet I was unable to show any of it, unable to truly manifest that fear.

Was this simply what it felt like to discover what lies beyond the veil? To learn that the unreal was in fact very, very real? Or was there just something wrong with me?

I began to wonder how far this new epiphany extended, how much else of the unknown fell under it. I began to wonder what myths and legends were in fact long-lost truths, which monsters of our dreams and nightmares truly lurked the shadows. I even dared to wonder if there was such a thing as magic; there was no proper and physical explanation that I could come up with to explain how Elsa was able to summon ice out of thin air, cool rooms, and alchemically modify matter. Not even something as already far-fetched as cryokinesis could fully account for all that. These thoughts still plague me even as I write this memoir.

There was an unexpected knock at the door that drew me away from my deep and wayward thoughts, and that snapped Elsa's strained concentration like a twig under a boot, the particles and shards of ice blasting out from her like the metaphorical splinters of wood, embedding themselves in the walls and floor with violent force. One narrowly missed me, and embedded itself in the crown moulding bordering one of the windows, burrowing hardly half an inch from the now literally frosted glass. After drawing my eyes away from the shard, I looked over to see a wide-eyed Elsa with an odd expression of fear in her eyes. It was not one of urgency, but one that seemed almost playful, like a naughty child afraid of being discovered in the act of doing something that was harmless yet inappropriate, being terrified yet unafraid at the same time. That rare expression was fleeting, however, and quickly shifted into the one I was more familiar with, so quickly that I was unsure if the previous one had actually even happened.

Even though she wasn't barred from any part of the estate, no one should have known that we were in this room. I had made sure of that, and so had Elsa; no one else could be allowed to know of her powers, and there was no point in informing those who already knew in case they could not actually be trusted after all. Despite our thorough and secretive efforts to stay hidden, which had worked flawlessly all this week, someone had found us. When I saw a grimace begin to overtake Elsa's features alongside her mask, I suspected that she already knew who awaited us.

With a glance, she silently commanded me to step away from her, and approached the door. She opened it slightly, and peeked through the gap.

"What?" She snapped bitterly in the tone she often used for most of her staff. The only exceptions to this harshness that I knew of were Kai, out of mutual respect, Gerda, whom I was told had been Elsa's and Anna's main caretaker for their entire lives, and me, perhaps out of the trust between us that must be present for me to be able to do my job as well as possible.

The unseen stranger cleared his throat. "Forgive me, Ms. Arendelle, I did not mean to interrupt. I have the data that you requested." I saw a black gloved hand present a folder to my charge. It was a man, definitely, and with a voice still as smooth as cream, and as seductively sly as a viper despite the hesitance in his tone. I hated him immediately.

Elsa didn't take the folder, and instead glared at him. "I  _also_ requested that you give them to me at check in." Whoever he was, he was obviously new. A silent pause ensued. "Why are you still here?" She grumbled irritably.

"I had noticed that you and your other bodyguard have come this way everyday for the past week. I was merely wondering if there was something that I should know."

"That is none of your concern. It's also not your place to ask. Now leave." She immediately slammed the door in his face and walked back into the room, leering at the iced walls and fuming, arms folded.

"Do you wish to continue today's training, ma'am?" I ventured carefully.

"No."

I nodded and prepared to follow her to wherever she planned to go, but she didn't move. After a moment, she turned around to face me, arms dropping to her waist to knit her hands together in front of her. Crisp, frozen irises locked onto amber ones. "That man's name was Hans Syd. He is your new colleague."

"Sven's replacement?"

"Yes, mostly. He is tasked to watch from afar, and guard against more distant threats. I did not wish to deal with any more incompetence first-hand in the future, and you have proven to be sufficient on your own for managing all of your duties, so I saw no need for a second bodyguard. Do you have any qualms about this?"

"Other than wishing I was notified beforehand, I have none that are of any relevant concern."

She looked down for a moment as she nodded in understanding, but her gaze quickly flicked up again. "Do you trust him?"

"Not in the slightest."

"Good, I don't either."

I raised an eyebrow curiously.

She turned and began to pace slowly. "He's sly—a good asset, yes—and he's skilled at what he does, but I wouldn't trust him with any... _sensitive_  information."

"Hence the distance."

"Precisely."

She looked about at the ruined space we were standing in, with its shard-punctured walls and frost-encrusted floors, and sighed heavily, "we're going to need to find another room."

"Do you have any place in mind?"

"You're the one in charge of security, and these...sessions. It's your decision."

I gave it a moment of thought, "If discretion is—as I assume—of the highest priority, then it may be best for us to conduct our business away from the estate. With Mr. Syd on the watch, we'll need to be somewhere where he doesn't have eyes."

"That does seem ideal," she headed for the door, stopping as her hand curled around the handle, "I'll leave the details to you." She looked at me one last time, "I expect a briefing tomorrow at our appropriated time."

"Yes ma'am."

She nodded to herself, and then spared yet another glance at the iced room. Her shoulders fell a near imperceptible amount, a sense of defeat breaking through her defenses.

"I'll have the senior staff address it," I offered regarding the chamber, hoping to placate her.

"Good. Make sure they're discreet; Anna almost found out about Sven. I can't risk something like that happening again."

I hadn't realized that she had known what Anna had been trying to do that night when I had run into her. Perhaps the redheaded ball of stubborn awkwardness had tried to confront her sister, though I didn't recall her ever doing such a thing. It must have been during the late hours of the night, perhaps right after we had parted ways in that chance meeting. Returning from my thoughts, I nodded stiffly at my charge's instruction and followed her out of the room, the warmth of the hallway blowing into me as I passed the threshold.

— —

The merger was now fast approaching, and was clearly putting Ms. Elsa on edge. For some reason that I was yet to understand, Mr. Syd was now with us as her second bodyguard, a fact that I found to be quite unsettling as this the suspicious and untrustworthy individual would now almost constantly be within close proximity of my charge.

He was waiting for us that morning on the roof of the manor, standing beside the car, feet apart, hands clasped before him, with styled auburn hair and absurd sideburns of a burnt orange hue framing a smooth face with a thin, pointed nose and high cheekbones. He sported a sly and confident smile that somehow passed for polite. It was my first time actually seeing him, and I already knew who it was without the need for an introduction. I hated him even more.

He nodded his head in Elsa's direction as the glass doors slid open and admitted us out onto the slightly windy rooftop. I glanced over at her, secretly fuming. She hadn't said a word about this, and from her perfectly composed demeanor, she clearly knew already. I most definitely had qualms about that.

To my secret satisfaction, however, she did not return his nod of greetings as we approached the vehicle, and did not acknowledge him in any way at all. It seemed he really was to be Sven's replacement.

Once we were in the car, I was especially thankful for the soundproof divider that separated us from the front seat, and, consequently, from Mr. Syd. I leaned over toward my charge as the car ascended from the platform to the proper elevation reserved for consumer vehicles, and murmured, "Ms. Elsa, I have reason to suspect that your life is in danger."

"Was that your attempt at a joke?" she snapped.

"No, ma'am. I was referring to the fact that  _Mr. Syd_ , a man whom both of us are wary of, and whom neither of us trust, is currently a part of your  _personal_  guard detail, and piloting a vehicle with us in it about about two kilometers in the air."

She huffed indignantly, "The merger is almost upon us, as I'm sure you know, and I felt the need to bolster my personal security; I believed it worth the risk of having Mr. Syd close by. Even if he does in fact have designs against me, I severely doubt that he will attempt anything. In the case that he still does, that's why you're here."

I frowned at her reasoning. If she suspected Mr. Syd to be against her, why didn't she simply remove him from her staff altogether? Then again, this may be a case of keeping your enemies closer to you than your friends. If she believed this to be the best course of action, then he must be quite a valuable asset indeed, or perhaps he was just someone she would not rather not be on the bad side of. I sincerely hoped it wasn't the latter.

She sighed, "Look, if you do your job correctly, then this shouldn't compromise anything anyway. You don't have to like him you know."

"If anything, I outright despise him."

She was evidently in an odd mood, as she did not lash out at me for speaking out of turn. She instead merely smiled to herself, with her gaze cast out the window, watching the clouds flash by outside as they were lit up with highlights of gold and orange, and shaded with violet hues and shadows of indigo, reflecting through the window and against Elsa's pale skin. It was a rare sight indeed, and definitely one worth remembering.

I had been watching her for some time, and after awhile, her features reset into their usual mold of indifference as she turned back around. Our eyes met, and she cocked a brow. "Why are you staring at me?"

Caught off guard by her bluntness, I looked away, "Forgive me, ma'am, I meant nothing by it."

"You didn't answer my question." I turned back around, to find her now staring at me, expectantly, and by her tone, also slightly irritated. I was grasping for a credible response to use when we suddenly began to descend. A large helipad was visible below, and the sprawling city lay even further down.

Elsa sighed and shook her head, "You are a man who always has a valid reason for everything you do, and I am sure that this is no different." The door was opened by an attendant, and we stepped out of the sleek, black vehicle. Elsa glanced over at Mr. Syd, who had already left the vehicle and was coming around to take his place at her left. She spun around back to me, her bangs bouncing, the morning light shining brightly against pale blonde hair, and glinting like the shine of snow crystals against deep icy blue irises. She huffed, "I expect to be informed later."

"Yes ma'am," I muttered.

There wasn't much else that could have been said at that point. There was, however, much more that could have been thought on the matter. The prospect of voicing the true reasons behind my lingering gaze was almost as frightening as the consequences of lying and having her see right through it. The fact that Mr. Syd's presence was influential enough to convince her that the matter should be discussed at a later time likely implied that she was taking this quite seriously. For the first time while on the job, I was at a loss for what to do. While having her turn my understanding of reality on its head when I discovered her powers had greatly affected me, I hadn't entirely lost my way; we had resorted to training and lessons, but with this, there were too many factors, and too many of them were volatile. There was no telling how she would react to the truth, there were too many ways for it all to go wrong—and in some of those cases, disastrously so—and yet the unbidden and preposterous chance that she would actually react positively came to mind as well, likely brought forth by a resilient force of hope that refused to die.

The indecision warred within me throughout the course of the entire day, and for quite certainly the one and only time in my life, I actually appreciated the presence of Mr. Syd, a despised human shield that stood between me and my dreaded fate.

The moment inevitably came that afternoon when the curiosity or anxiety that was driving Elsa couldn't stand to wait any longer, and I was called into her office, alone.

I entered quietly, Mr. Syd closing the door behind me, and stood before my charge. She was not sitting at the desk as I had been expecting, but instead stood before it, arms folded. I clasped my hands before me, "How may I be of assistance, ma'am?"

"The matter from this morning," she began, "you did not answer my question."

"I assure you that it is of no consequence."

"And yet you refuse to tell me."

I was silent after that, stalling, still unsure of how to proceed. She exhaled and approached, standing only about a foot from me, forcing her to crane her neck to look me in the eyes. Despite the more pronounced difference in stature, she appeared no less intimidating, and perhaps even more so.

"Why does it interest you?" I blurted.

The forward question had silenced the young woman, her coercive and dominant demeanor crashing down like a flawed house of cards, and I saw that it was all just a part of her mask. Nervous energy literally sparked off of her as frost, and she dropped her gaze. "As I have told you before, you're the only one whom I can actually and fully trust, and I want you to be able to tell me anything. Honestly, I had simply hoped I could get to know you better...and perhaps even go as far as become friends."

"I...don't quite understand, Ms. Elsa."

She frowned and shook her head, "I don't blame you; other than dealing with others in the business world, I don't really have much of any experience with social interaction, or with any sort of relationship that was not grounded entirely in self-interest. There was never really a place for it," she began to tense up, and the room chilled steadily, "not since the accident." She saw my melancholy gaze, and shook her head, "not that one, this was before my parents passed, years before." Her arms snaked over her stomach, clutching at each other, and she was silent. I was beginning to wonder if she was finished when she started to speak again, her voice weak and vulnerable, "I've never told anyone about this, partly because it was not something I liked to think about, and partly because of my curse."

She took a deep breath and swallowed, "I was eight at the time, and Anna was only five. She knew about my powers back then."

I furrowed my brow in confusion, Anna most certainly did not know about them now. She characteristically returned my expression with an impatient glare, "It will all make sense by the end, assuming you can believe it."

With that foreboding note hanging in the air, she continued, "We had shared a room then—it was more for the comfort the company provided than out of necessity—and Anna would often wake me up at insanely early hours whenever the northern lights shone brightly in the sky, and then beg me to 'do the magic' for her," she smiled wistfully at the memory. I began to doubt that this tale was going to end on a very good note.

"So we'd go out into the ballroom, or the great hall, or anywhere else that was big enough, and then we'd play in the snow, my snow. The day it happened was just like that one; we had gone out into the great hall that time, and began to play, building snowmen and slides, having snowball fights, and even sliding along on the iced floor. Anna had an idea for a new game to play, where she'd jump into the air and land on the piles of snow I conjured, and then hop from one to the next and so on. She keep going higher, and higher. She was fearless, smiling wide, having the time of her life. She started going faster; I couldn't keep up, I called out for her to slow down, I was afraid she would fall, that she would get hurt, and then...I slipped. She had jumped, the magic hit her in the head and she fell, landing in a snowdrift we had been playing in before. She wouldn't wake up, and she was so cold, I actually felt it. I cried out and our parents rushed in, found us there, surrounded by my ice, holding Anna."

She stopped again, on the verge of tears, barely managing to keep it all in. With a shaky breath she tried to go on, "she ended up in a coma, and we feared she would never wake up. My parents finally realized on that day how dangerous I really was, that I was not gifted, but cursed, and that I needed to be remedied as soon as possible. They took me out of school, had my lessons be conducted at the manor, and made me swear to never use my powers until I learned to control them. As if it recoiled at the idea, my ice became erratic, volatile, freezing everything I touched, getting even harder to control with every attempt I made to do so. I found out that gloves helped somewhat, with the freezing touch at least, but it was the only comfort left to me," she stared down at the white ones she was currently wearing, transfixed by the pair of wet spots marring its surface. She wiped at her eyes and sniffed. I offered her my handkerchief and she took it gingerly, before dabbing at her face with it, staining it with mascara. She looked down at it with disappointment.

"About two years later, Anna awoke from her coma. She smiled when she saw me, and seemed unperturbed by the streak of gray that was now in her hair, but when my parents came in, she didn't recognize them. She didn't remember anything about them, or anything else at all..." Her hands clenched the cloth tightly, "Except for me. Unfortunately, almost all of her memories, even the ones we shared together, were still gone. She remembered my name and my birthday, my favorite color, my likes and dislikes, mannerisms, and so many more insignificant little bits of trivia, but not a single thing about ice or my powers."

"She had to be homeschooled for a while after that along with me. She never seemed to mind, she didn't remember any of her old friends anyway, and I was there. That always seemed to be enough for her, or at least sometimes. I had begun to draw away from her, from everyone, partly because I was already getting used to doing things on my own, but also because I knew that if I stayed too close to anyone, I would end up hurting them."

Her arms wrapped around herself as she hunched forward, like her chest was going to explode.

"I put Anna in a coma. I disgraced my parents, my family, I've ruined homes and lives, even toppled a building, and I...killed Sven."

She hung her head guiltily, and leaned into me. Her cold skin felt like that of a corpse. Pale hands clutched at my suit jacket, and the very lively softness of her form pressed against me. My arms rose and wrapped around her instinctively, protectively hugging her as she began to sob into my chest. A thought came to me, and I smiled to myself, "It's going to take a lot more than some snow and ice to hurt me, Ms. Elsa".

Her response was muffled by my jacket.

I looked down at the back of her head, "pardon?"

She shifted, resting a cheek against me, "just Elsa, please, at least when there's no one else around."

"Very well then, Elsa." It felt strange to say it, but it rolled off my tongue in a very pleasing way.

Her arms circled me, returning the hug. I knew not how long we stood there, but I didn't really care; I wasn't exactly anxious to let go of her.

She sighed, "You don't have to answer the question. I'm sorry."

"It's fine, you have more than enough reason to be on edge."

"Not with you. Had you of planned to kill me or harm me, you would have done it a long time ago, and if you are still trying to after all this time, I don't think that you're really much of a threat."

"Very true."

She drew away from me slowly, and met my eyes as she retreated back to the desk. "Thank you for hearing me out."

I shrugged and smiled slightly, "what are friends for?"

She returned the expression and looked down, hiding her eyes with her bangs. Idly, I noticed that the room began to feel warmer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Trivia bit: Syd actually means "south" in Danish. Denmark is also most likely where the Southern Isles would be located if they existed.


	4. Trust Exercise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I regretfully announce that I am moving from a one-week update cycle to a two-week update cycle. When I started posting this story, I already had a buffer of the first three chapters, and with this chapter being uploaded, I no longer have one. With college, homework, other projects, sleep, and Borderlands, there simply isn't enough time for me to manage quality with such frequent updates. On the plus side, the chapters may end up becoming longer because of the extra time so yay! I'm just letting you all know now so that you don't have to shed any tears when there's no update next Wednesday. Please don't cry. You'll make me cry. Thank you, and enjoy the chapter.

I knew something was different ever since this morning. It wasn't an immediate change, nothing that would be obviously seen or identified by the eye or the ear. It was subtle, impossible to place, but it was most assuredly there, and it had permeated my surroundings ever since we left the manor. When we had boarded our transport at the usual time, no one had seemed particularly distressed or agitated. Elsa wasn't wearing her shades, and Mr. Syd was as quiet and composed as he always seemed to be.

The day itself was quite uneventful as well, though I still felt on edge the entire time as I stood guard outside the office, scanning, with Mr. Syd beside me, looking preoccupied. That was actually rather strange; Syd had his own mask that was perhaps worn even more tightly than mine or Elsa's, and it was coming undone. With that realization, my agitation expanded tenfold. If Mr. Syd was on edge, there was either a threat about to come in from a long way away, or his true colors were about to burn through.

I turned to him confrontationally, hoping that the case wasn't the latter. "What did you hear?"

He glanced over and up at me, eyebrows raised in passive surprise, "I'm impressed that you picked up on that."

"What did you hear?" I repeated more sternly.

He turned his back to the wall and leaned up against it, arms folded, "I'm not certain about anything yet, but it seems that South Isles is just as shady as Ms. Arendelle had suspected them to be, if not more so," he looked back at me, "It seems we have a reason to be on guard."

"We always have a reason to be on guard." I corrected with a glare.

Appearing somewhat chastised, Mr. Syd looked away again.

We were silent for a time, until I broke it with another question, "Have you informed our charge?"

"Why would I tell her something she already knows?"

"It would solidify her suspicions."

Syd shrugged, "If we do what we're paid to do, it shouldn't really matter whether she knows."

"Ms. Elsa would hardly agree with that."

"Do you really think you know her that well?"

"I think that you're in no position to argue, newbie."

I debated whether not I should explain to him why it would be best to tell her; not saying anything and pissing her off would be a brilliant way to get the rat fired, and yet it was a potential security risk to leave her out of the loop, a fact I had learned too well in the past.

— —

"Ma'am, may I have a word?" Syd asked, looking sidelong at the empowered, blonde executive as she paced along next to him.

"Depends on if it's actually relevant."

"I think you'll find that it is."

We were on the helipad at the manor, and Mr. Syd was speaking urgently to Elsa as the three of us walked away from the car. The manor's automated doors opened as we passed between them, and the chill from the outside followed us in.

"What is it?" Elsa snapped.

Right as Mr. Syd opened his mouth to speak, he was knocked off-balance by a sudden blur of orange. He landed on his back, and stared up into the wide and apologetic eyes of none other than Anna, who laughed nervously.

"Oh! Sorry! Really, sorry, I wasn't looking where I was...going..." She trailed off and stared down at him for an oddly long moment. "Hi! I'm Anna, by the way—I don't think we've properly met, and I guess we still haven't because, you know, uh..." She attempted to extricate herself from their awkward position, stumbling a bit, but managing to stay upright with the support of Syd's arm. After rising to her full height and dusting herself off, she stretched out a hand out to try and help him up, but he was already halfway there, and she ended up awkwardly retracting the gesture. "You're...handsome- I mean Hans, right?"

Caught off-guard by the sudden compliment, he took a moment to respond, "Umm, yes, Hans Syd, ma'am." He held out a hand for her to shake.

"Oh, just call me Anna, really, I'm not that big on formalities," she shook his hand belatedly, "or social things in general..." They shared small smiles before Anna noticed her sister passing by as if she weren't even there, and perked up. "Hi!" Elsa didn't turn, or seem to acknowledge her at all, but Anna still waved half-heartedly at her back anyway, hand drooping sadly.

After a moment, Elsa did look behind her, lighting Anna's flame of hope right before dousing it again as her cold eyes fell on Mr. Syd, "We will speak later," she said to him.

He gave a curt nod, "Yes, ma'am." He glanced back at Anna, giving her a sad smile before heading off down another hall toward whatever dark recess he always holed himself up in while at the manor. I followed Elsa, feeling torn between the two estranged sisters as we left Anna standing alone in the hall. A faint shine crossed the corner of my eye, but I could not tell if it was simply a trick of the light, or tears glistening in her eyes.

Elsa and I turned the corner and walked down the hall towards one of the elevators. It was once again just the two of us.

"I know of the matter which Mr. Syd wanted to speak to you about." I commented.

"And yet you refrained from saying anything?"

"Mr. Syd had beaten me to it."

"Hm."

"He has found that South Isles Corp has an ulterior motive for completing the merger with Frost Industries."

"I figured as much, though I'm surprised that he decided to inform us."

I nodded in agreement, "it's hard to tell whether he's just doing an excellent job of fooling us or if he's actually on our side."

"I was referring more to the fact that the Syd family owns South Isles."

I was surprised. "And yet you hired Mr. Syd anyway?"

"It was exactly why I hired him to begin with, his life could be used as leverage if things were to go badly."

I raised my eyebrows, "Have things ever gone that badly?"

Her arms folded across her stomach. "Yes," she muttered impassively.

We had reached the elevator and her pale hand shot out and tapped the down button before my own hand was halfway there, and I faltered. The doors opened shortly after, and we stepped inside, heading for the ground floor.

Ice blue eyes looked over and up at mine, "I presume you've located a suitable place for-" I stopped her with a hand, taking her by surprise and setting her mask askew; her bright eyes widened and her painted lips parted.

"The elevators are monitored."

She repositioned her façade into its usual frigid scowl and pushed my hand away as she turned back around to face the doors, waiting for them to open with folded arms, "well now they're definitely suspicious," she retorted accusingly.

"As their employer, the activities you engage in during your time are none of their concern-"

"Stop talking, Bjorgman."

"Yes, ma'am."

Elsa charged into the hallway before the lift doors were even halfway open, and I struggled to follow; she was surprisingly fast for someone who never really exercised. On the plus side, I no longer had to purposely slow my gait to match her usual pace. It was unprecedented though, and that worried me. Change brings on the unknown, and the unknown often brings on trouble.

She burst through the large, heavy oaken front doors into the summer air, allowing the mild northern balm to blast in like a wave, and descended the wide stone stairs that led down to the traffic circle, where a black sedan was waiting. She entered the back seat without a word, and I signaled to the chauffeur, who was already waiting in the driver's seat, to step out. I caught the door as he opened it and entered once he passed me on his way back into the manor.

The car was quiet except for the soft hum of the electric engine as I started it up, and I proceeded to navigate towards the public road.

"You seem unusually hurried."

"Do I?" she was hardly listening and stared out the window. Her eyes were distant and her knee was bouncing anxiously.

"Yes."

She didn't respond. She likely didn't even hear me in her preoccupied state.

The rest of the drive was silent, both inside and outside the car as we drove along unpaved, urban backroads, across plains, up hills, over bridges, all dusted with frost. It reminded me of the years I had spent in the wilderness, with the seemingly endless expanse of nature as my sole companion, both my greatest friend and my worst feeling of nostalgia became stronger as the incline of the road became steeper. We were nearing the North Mountain. I began to recognize little landmarks, small, subtle cues and distinguished details one would only begin to notice after years of wandering amongst the frigid pines. I began to smile despite myself. It was the one place where I could escape the horrors of my past, and, more importantly, the one place where no one would ever find us.

I parked the car along the side of the road. The change in motion and the silencing of the engine's hum broke Elsa from her stupor, prompting her to look up and examine her surroundings. Her brows furrowed in unamused confusion, "why are we parked in the middle of the woods?"

I closed my door as I stepped clear of its path and reached for Elsa's, only to find that she had exited on her own, ice blue eyes still searching about before looking up and locking onto mine.

I began to walk backwards towards the trees, "The location for our sessions can't be accessed from the road, we'll have to walk from here."

I could hear her sigh audibly from behind me as I turned and headed toward the east, navigating around and through the forest of pine trees like the shelves of an old, well-visited library.

I glanced back at my charge frequently, making sure that she was keeping up through the rising drifts of snow. She was doing surprisingly well, and if my eyes weren't fooling me, it almost looked as if she were walking atop the powdery surface instead of sinking into it.

"How much farther? We're already in the middle of nowhere."

"About another mile."

She groaned again, and I looked back at her, "consider it as part of your training," I suggested

"What the hell does excessive cardio have to do with reigning in an ice curse?" She snapped, glaring daggers.

I turned back with a shrug, "endurance, I guess..."

She inhaled deeply, "There's a significant difference between physical endurance and mental endurance, and-" I silenced her rant by raising my hands in placatory surrender, and she closed her mouth, appearing unsatisfied.

We reached the edge of the clearing not long afterwards. It was relatively small, perhaps about half the size of a soccer field, and was covered with a clean and white plain of fresh snow. A modest yet sizable log cabin stood along the opposite edge of the clearing, and a thin creek separated us from the small field, trickling along from the summit of the mountain.

Elsa stepped onto the creek, which froze below her, allowing her to cross onto the frozen field. She took in the treeless expanse, turning as she went, her steps not even leaving footprints in the drifts. She nodded to herself, "This will work nicely."

"The presence of the snow should help accidents appear less conspicuous as well," I added, walking carefully across her frozen, slippery path, and trudging heavily through the drifts towards the cabin.

She looked at me curiously as I passed her, "where are you going?"

I looked back at her, equally confused, "Inside? It's obviously below freezing, and we've been outside for quite a while."

She gazed at me sideways with a humored smirk, "I've already told you I don't feel the cold."

I sighed and stopped, standing stiffly where I was, hands in my pockets. I wasn't about to admit it, but I was freezing my ass off. It seems I had been gone from here longer than I thought. I glanced back at her to see that she was still smiling, now with her hands folded at her waist, fingers intertwined in a way that was normal only for her. I began to feel oddly self-conscious.

"What is it?" I asked, sensing some missed joke.

"You can go inside if you want to."

"As your bodyguard, I should be near you at all times in order to ensure your health and safety-"

"There's no one out here," she laughed, "if someone would be able to come up here after us, then you wouldn't have done a very good job of finding us a private space. Besides," she conjured a wickedly sharp shard of ice that spun slowly in her palm, "I'm not exactly defenseless."

My eyebrows raised, "Well, you've definitely improved."

She beamed and looked down shyly at the revolving weapon, her bangs hiding her eyes. I noticed a faint splash of color across her cheeks. She peeked out from her hair, "You should go inside, really, you're obviously cold."

"I'm used to it, I used to live up here for quite a while."

"Oh," she replied with widened eyes, it was apparently news to her.

"You were not aware of this?" I asked slowly.

"I-I was, I just hadn't expected you to...take me here."

I shrugged, "It was the first thing that came to mind, and I figured that it would suit our needs quite well."

"It will, thank you." She dismissed the shard and exhaled, still smiling, "shall we begin?"

— —

"I knew it!" the fur-clad girl shot to her feet with a sudden burst of energy that contrasted greatly with the apathy she had been displaying over the past few days. Olaf and Marshall looked up from the journal and watched her as she began to run about the space, eyes alight as she began picking up a variety of items that were scattered about the fire-lit cave.

Marshall frowned in puzzlement, "I thought you had given up on this?"

She had set a large pack upright and was attempting to stuff rations into it, "I was only tired of reading the stupid thing. C'mon you two, let's get packing!"

Olaf stood up, also confused. "Where are we going?"

Anna whirled on him, hands splayed in exasperation, "To the cabin! Duh!"

His arms went to his hips as he frowned, "Uh huh, and where is that?"

Anna stopped, "umm...on the North Mountain."

"Where on the North Mountain?"

Anna pursed her lips and squinted before jumping up again with a grin to continue her frenzied packing, "yeah, we'll just figure that out when we get there! I mean it shouldn't be too hard to find, it's just a cabin sitting out there...in the woods...which is really big... and has lots of trees..." her vigor drained along with her speed, and she flopped down face first onto her packed bedroll with a groan.

Olaf laid an arm on her shoulder sympathetically, "Don't give up completely, we haven't finished the journal yet."

Her head popped up, "you're right!"

She hopped back up to her feet and pointed at Olaf and Marshall, "You two keep reading!" She then turned around and took off out of the cavern, alarming her two companions.

Olaf shouted after her, "hey! Where are you going? Anna?" He almost lost his balance when the book was shoved into his chest by Marshall's hand as the hulking man rushed past him briskly, "and where are you going?"

Marshall stopped at the cave's opening to tie on his snow boots, "After her. You keep reading." He set off into the frozen wilderness and out of sight, leaving a frowning Olaf alone in their camp. After a long moment, he shook his head and sighed, and opened the leather-bound moleskine flipping to the page that they were on.

— —

"Shall we begin?"

"Of course," I came forward to stand about five paces from her, and then folded my arms. "Let's see if you can reform that shard again."

She nodded and focused on her hands, which were held out before her, palms up. Cyan and cerulean swirls formed and began to take shape, elongating slowly and cleanly as the construct solidified, and new, even layers of crystalline frost were extruded and hardened. The process was slow at first, controlled—which was good— but also restrained. The rod began to wobble ominously.

"Elsa, I think that's-"

Ice lashed out towards me into the shape a massive javelin. The tip barely missed, and would have gone straight through the relatively flimsy flesh, muscle and bone in my chest if I hadn't managed to dodge it. I heard a piercing scream of fear and pain, and the deadly rod cracked and twisted hideously before me, falling to the ground where it shattered against the snow, brittle and wicked.

I looked up from the pieces to see a terrified Elsa with her shoulders hunched and her hands held out in midair, stuck halfway between covering her mouth and reaching out towards me. Her breathing was heavy and she looked to be on the verge of tears. I took a step forward and she scurried back a few with a whimper, like a frightened animal.

"It's alright, Elsa. I'm alright." I came forward again and she leaned away, but her feet stayed where they were. A shaky hand hovered near my right arm as if to gingerly touch at something, and I looked at it to see a splash of red underneath a frayed slit in the fabric of my suit. The cut was long and bled moderately, but to call it a wound would be exaggerating. It was also numb; I hadn't even known it was there until I had seen it. I looked back at Elsa to see tears running uninhibited down her face.

"Seriously, it's fine, it doesn't hurt. I can't even feel it."

Her eyes screwed shut and her tears suddenly began to freeze, ice crusting over her cheeks and lashes. She tried to open her eyes, but they were now frozen shut. She she cried out in panic and stumbled, new ice forming over the snow wherever she stepped. I sprung to action, and grabbed her by the waist to stop from doing something she'd regret. She began to sob without tears while I attempted to quiet her. Cold, pale hands clutched tightly at the lapels of my suit jacket. It would be wrinkled, but I didn't care.

"Let's go inside, just hold onto me, alright?"

The now blind woman nodded fitfully and pressed into me further as I made my way towards the cabin.

We came into the cabin through the front door and entered the sparsely furnished living room. A fireplace was set into the wall to the right with a small couch and an armchair opposite from it across a plain, rough rug of twine. A small wooden coffee table sat atop it in the middle. It was all just as I had left it, the only indication of the time that has passed being the thick coating of dust that had accumulated over every surface.

After untangling my charge from my chest with some difficulty, I laid her down on the couch while she calmed, and turned toward the cold and empty hearth to light it with one of the matches sitting by the small wood pile adjacent to it. The foul smell of burning dust filled my nostrils as the thick smoke rose up through the clay and stone chimney.

I turned back to my charge to find that she had calmed down considerably. Her breath was so even that I thought she might be asleep.

"Elsa?"

"I'm awake." Her voice was monotonous, resigned.

"Stay by the fire, the ice should melt soon-"

I was interrupted by a humorless chuckle from the blinded woman as she slowly sat up on the couch, "there's no point. It doesn't thaw. It never does."

"I don't understand."

she whipped around in the direction my voice. "It's cursed!" she spat, "Why do you think they had to cart it all away from the office? Why do you think Sven is still frozen?"

I stood and came towards her, and she stiffened with uncertainty when she heard my approach.

"Perhaps your ice is...enchanted," I conceded, "but I think there's still a way. Some of that ice did thaw, you know."

Her brows pushed together in confusion.

"The floor of your study was damp after the incident, Elsa."

She frowned further and tried to rub at her eyes, "that doesn't make any sense."

"There's a lot about your powers that we don't know. We can't just resign ourselves to our limited observations."

The snarky retort I was expecting never came; she merely sighed, and asked lamely, "do you have an ice pick? Or something?"

I examined her quizzically, "As it so happens, yes, I do...though I don't think that would be the best way to go about handling your predicament."

"Do you have any better ideas?"

"No, ma'am."

She sighed again at my response as I went into another room to fetch the requested item along with some other things that I thought might be necessary precautions, such as a first aid kit; it was going to be a very delicate procedure. I heard her stand, and came out to see her fumbling her way around the room. "Ms. Elsa, perhaps you should stayed seated-"

"You're a bodyguard, not a babysitter, and I'm not a child. I can handle this just fine. I've been on my own for a long time. Also, we're in private company, so there's no need for the formalities. I've told you this already."

I exhaled as I watched her cross about the space, her steadiness and confidence growing with each step, "old habits, I guess."

She laid her folded hands on the back of the couch and managed to look straight at me, "this actually isn't that bad." She straightened again and paced about in the small open space between the back of the couch and the small kitchen table behind it, "not having to see their hideous faces when I look at them would make it so much easier to deal with the board members."

"True," I admitted with a shrug and am unseen smirk. She laughed, freely. It wasn't forced or false, and it was beautiful. I hadn't ever heard her do that even on a good day. The grim and serious masquerade party that was her life was not going on up here on this mountain, in this kingdom of isolation. The masks were thrown aside the moment we crossed that creek.

Elsa was facing away from me when she stopped her pacing. A curiously wary hand rose to her face, and I faintly heard the crackling of ice.

"Elsa?"

"It's thawing..." She stood for a moment in shock before vigorously rubbing at her eyes. Bits and pieces of ice fell and made tiny droplet-sized stains on the wood floor of the cabin.

Her head whipped around, and brilliant blue eyes looked into mine. They were full of excitement and relief, but clouded by fear and confusion. "It's thawing now, but...why? What's different?" The orbs were cast down at her hands, and when she spoke again, her voice was hardly above a whisper "is the rest of it still there?"

"The rest of what?" I asked

The question made her jump. Whatever this was about, it was clearly something big.

"Nothing. Nothing."

"Which means it's something bad."

"It's nothing."

"The last time you neglected to tell me about 'nothing', somebody died."

She flinched at the word. It was harsh, but it had to be. I needed to know.

"I can't...I can't tell you."

"Is someone pressuring you?" I found myself standing up straight and full of tension.

She shook her head, "No, no. It's not a who, and that's as far as you should be concerned. Enough of this."

I stepped forward adamantly, "On the contrary, if you-"

"I said enough!"

The blast of freezing wind was unexpected by both parties, and sent me flying. I landed hard on the ground about a meter from where I was. When I sat up, Elsa's expression was identical to the one she had worn outside. I now recognized it as regret. Her hands balled into fists as she tucked them into herself, and her gaze dropped the moment I tried to make eye contact with her.

"This was a mistake. I've already hurt you twice in one day. I'm getting worse."

"We're training, and this is nothing. I'm still alive, so I'm fine."

Her eyes squeezed shut, and she shook her head sadly, "you're an idiot."

"I prefer the term resilient."

She turned away from me and murmured something I couldn't hear.

"Don't run from this, Elsa."

'Why not? It's been working out for years."

"Has it really?" I stepped forward again. "Is insomnia 'working out?' Are all those incidents that you spoke about when we began this, those gas leaks and faulty wiring, is that 'working out?'"

"I'm still alive after all of it, so yes, it is."

"Elsa, that's not-"

"You're such a fucking idiot! How can you think it's ok for you to voluntarily put yourself in harm's way? Stop trying to help me, for your own sake." She was crying again.

"You know I can't do that." I came forward. "I'm your bodyguard, that's what I'm supposed to do. Besides, aren't you the one who asked me to be your friend?"

"So this is my fault?"

"I'm not blaming anyone. You're blaming yourself."

"You're missing the point. Anna had an excuse, but you-"

"Wait, what about Anna?"

Her face contorted into fury, but it was directed entirely at herself. She exhaled sharply, reminiscent of a bull, "She doesn't know. She doesn't know the reason why she should stay away, but you," a finger jabbed at my chest, "You've seen me for the monster that I really am, a callous bitch cursed with powers as cold and frozen as my heart, and yet you still..."

I was glaring at her. "Stop it."

The smile she wore was completely cynical, but also slightly unhinged, "can't stand to hear the truth, can you? Well, you can delude yourself for as long as you want, but that doesn't change anything!"

"You're the one deluding yourself, Elsa. You're not a monster."

"Then what am I?!" She lashed out, throwing ice into the wall and cracking the logs, "what else could I possibly be?!"

"You're Elsa. You're human,"

"No, no, I'm not!"

"You're human, and you make mistakes."

"Mistakes are not allowed."

"Mistakes are unavoidable," pained, blue irises looked into mine, disbelieving, unsure, and full of self-hate, and I continued, "and they don't make you any less human—much the opposite, in fact. You're also not heartless; I've seen plenty of evidence of that."

She turned away from me, and I planted my feet stubbornly as I folded my arms, "you don't have to believe me. It doesn't change the fact that it's true."

She said nothing for a long time, and then she whispered in a pleading voice, "Why can't you understand that being near me is nothing but pain?"

"Life is pain, and I've lived with it for years."

She frowned, "That's not..."

I merely smiled. She was deflating now, but she still wasn't convinced. That was alright though, we had plenty of time to do something about it.

"We can gain control, but you have to believe that if it's going to work."

She stared at me for a long time, and I held her piercing gaze. She broke the silence, "I'm starting to get the feeling that you're not entirely who you say you are."

I smirked, "everyone has their secrets, Elsa."

She sighed, and as it faded, the air became stagnant and awkward. She broke it quickly afterwards, and walked around me to get to the first aid kit, which she opened and began to prepare. She held out a hand, "your arm."

"You needn't trouble yourself with it, I can attend to it later."

"I'm the one who hurt you, so I'm the one who's going to fix it, now give me your arm."

I came around and sat on the couch to give her access to the sleeve. She grimaced empathetically as she examined the cut. "Are you sure it doesn't hurt?" she asked warily.

"I hardly feel a thing. I've had worse though, much worse."

"During your military career?" Elsa asked as she dabbed at the cut with a peroxide soaked piece of cotton

"Yes, though it wasn't the only time. That's all I really want to say about it."

She nodded, and smiled shyly as she began to place a bandage over the injury, "fair enough."

I looked down at it after she finished. The band-aid was blue, and had reindeer on it.


	5. Foul and Fair

Snow is clean when it is untouched, smoothly mimicking the surfaces that it buries, uninterrupted and consistent. Snow is dirty when it is trod upon, disturbed by the boot, rugged and solid, as it plows gracelessly through the virgin plain, leaving it ruffled, disheveled, and mixed in with stray bits of grass and earth, mashed into slush and stained with brown.

In this world, ice and snow rule as one with the wind and sky. Blizzards and snowfall dance upon the heavy wintry drifts like nobles at a royal ball. The ground as it once was is never visible. No one can see it from under the layer of white, and none take the time to look for it, for what purpose would that serve? The dirt and rock below are nothing more than painful reminders of a time long past and long gone. There is never time to waste in the frozen air, where frostbite, hypothermia, and all the other cold scythes of death can claim lives in minutes.

Truly, time was always of the essence, both to the scavengers of the white wastes, and to the anxious and determined woman who trudged along up the side of the North mountain. The air was calm, a rare occurrence in those times; there wasn't even a flake of sleet in the sky. After crossing a rather deep section of the rise that she had been ascending, the woman just barely managed to see the small, flattened area now before her, a placid plane with a sheer, snowy cliff that dropped off hardly a meter from where she was standing. She continued to the edge fearlessly, and looked down.

Sharp and rough slopes awaited below, the jagged stone of the mountain tearing through the snow and ice like the knives that they were. As the base neared, the steepness lessened, and the cliffside began to become more tame and less treacherous before being once again swallowed up by the winter's pale, powdery skin. A ways off, the struggling forest of pine gave way to a small series of rectangular structures, varying in height and other details. A few of them had collapsed under their frigid burdens, but others seemed to have been destroyed by other, unknown causes. These mysteries were the earliest damages.

Beyond the varied assortment, past roads winding through fenced-in fields of cold, dead emptiness interrupted by small lumps of snow that marked the corpses of livestock, lay the edge of a great estate, surrounded by a grand, half-buried, and presumably tall fence of beige stone and gray mortar. Behind it lay nothing but winter and its cruelties: pillars, spikes, and the flash-frozen shapes of cars and the dead. Even further in the distance, just slightly visible through the billowing curtains of icy precipitation, stood the remains of a mansion, with its walls of bricked, beige stone, its roofs of gray, flat shingles, and its windows of once immaculate glass, were pierced and rent by even larger pillars and spikes that wormed out from the edifice in violent, angular, and twisted curves, giving it all a rotten and diseased appearance.

After tearing her eyes away from the darkness of the previous era, she looked up along the clean and white slope before her, breath fogging in the frigid air. The incline continued upwards at a manageable angle to the right of the small plateau. Beyond it lay her destination, or so she hoped; she was finally starting to realize that she had once again acted without fully thinking everything through. Even if Kristoff actually was on this mountain, where within the snow and the trees would he be?

Anna cursed to herself, as she was unable to find an answer to that question. A glance behind her showed her path through the snow, descending down the mountain as it faded into the distance. She had come too far to just back out without even attempting to look for him.

As she turned back around with replenished resolve, she caught a movement out of the corner of her eye and whipped back around, her plaited hair billowing outward as it trailed along. Some distance back, the figure of a man, clothed in black and with the hood of his coat raised, was following her tracks.

Cursing again, Anna turned tail and took off as fast as she could manage towards the rise in the snow. While her sprinting was still relatively slow in the knee-deep drifts, it was faster than the man was walking, and that was all that mattered. After that thought flashed through her head, she tripped; a boot had caught on the icy powder and pitched her forward.

She hit the ground with a yelp and sank a little before regaining her balance and struggling to pull herself up. At least a full 30 seconds had elapsed by the time she was up and running again.

"damn my klutziness..."

With the feeling of the man's approach behind her spurring her on with fear, her escape became more erratic, and even less dignified as she made unnecessary turns and attempted decoys as adrenaline and instinct took over.

The slope widened out, making way for needled trees and long-dead bushes. Anna meandered quickly through the forest, as there was less snow here for her to sink in. She attempted to leap over a bush, but her coat snagged on the brambles and reunited her freckled face with the cold ground. She spat out the now half-melted ice, and froze. Faintly, she could hear the powdery crunch of approaching footfalls on snow.

"Shit!" Her teeth grinded together as she clenched them, and she scrambled up from the ground, pulling a 6-inch serrated combat knife out from its sheath on her thigh as she turned around and stood up into a crouch, eyes watching, blade at the ready, completely prepared to face her aggressor. When the world has died and what's left of the populace is struggling to survive, anyone who isn't you could be your enemy.

Anna darkly wondered what he would do with her if he managed to overpower her. Would he simply kill her and relieve her corpse of its supplies? Would he just mug her? Or would he take her and strip-

"Anna!"

She recognized the voice through her morbid thoughts, and exhaled the breath she didn't realize she was holding.

"Marshall."

While his approach drastically increased her chances of survival, it would also hinder the progress of her mission. She had to find Kristoff. She had to find Elsa. Repeating her goal to herself, she turned and kept running.

"Anna! Wait!"

"You'll never take me alive!" It wasn't exactly the most fitting response, but Anna didn't really care; it was the first thing that crossed her mind. She ran harder, but a look back revealed that she wasn't losing him.

_Damn his fitness!_

"You're not going to find him like this, we need to go back!" Marshall yelled back at her.

"We...have to at least try!" Anna was losing her breath. She hadn't ever run this much in her life, and it was taking its toll. Adrenaline could only do so much. She stumbled again, and Marshall started to catch up. With a frustrated growl, she tossed the knife down and started packing part of the frozen ground into a ball.

The large man sighed, "You're wasting your ti-" a blur of white impacted his face with a solid crack, and powdery flakes exploded around him. A more solid chunk bounced away, spattered with crimson, flecks of it rocketing off as the lump of ice spun through the air. Marshall went down gracelessly with a flop, and groaned.

Anna stopped, cringing empathetically, "Oops! Sorry, sorry. I'm sorry. I didn't-", she cleared her throat and re-steeled herself, "I'm not going back, I'm staying here. I'm not gonna leave without even trying to look for him."

Marshall sat up, nursing his face. He found blood on his lip, and glanced up at the determined redhead before closing his slightly open mouth into a frown. He gestured to their surroundings. They were on a narrow, snow-covered backroad with forests of tall, coniferous trees on either side. "Look around you, you're not going to find anything, and we'll freeze to death long before we get to search the whole place." He stood up, and continued, "In the journal, he said the cabin was at least a mile from any road or path. We're not going to just stumble upon it."

Anna shrugged wildly, "Maybe we'll find a clue or something!"

Marshall rolled his eyes in exasperation, and placed his hands on his hips, "Anna-"

"We're already out here! I'm not gonna just turn back." Her stubborn face glared intensely at him from across the snowy ten meter gap between them. A sudden gust of wind from the south blew her bangs to her left, and brought her braided pigtails to life as belligerent, hissing rattlesnakes that gave semblance to Medusa.

Marshall exhaled sharply, the breath expelling from his nostrils like an angry bull. "Am I going to have to forcibly carry you back?"

"Am I going to have to bite your head off?"

He gave her a look, which she then mocked, and sighed again. "Fine, but when I say we turn around, we turn around."

Anna flicked both index fingers at him as she walked backwards in an attempt to be cool. "You got it, chief! Woah-" a patch of ice sent her down onto her rear, and directly on her tailbone. "Gah! Oh, damn everything!"

She was still grumbling and struggling as Marshall approached, and he helped her up with ease as he passed. She quickly skipped a few paces ahead of him and continued on with her march.

After a few miles of cheerful marching, skipping, and rambling at length about the most unimportant of subjects, Anna's vigor from her run and encounter had faded, giving in at last to the bitterness of the cold, and spreading itself to her mood. Her feet dragged and her head hung low against the cold and the wind. Marshall kept pace behind her, face almost impassive, but also vigilant, scanning their surroundings as they went. He noticed her sluggish movements. "Giving up yet?"

"No," she grumbled defiantly. "There's still plenty of ground to cover, so there's still plenty more to do." She did a double take as she noticed something up ahead on the right-hand side of the road. "Car!"

She sprinted towards the snow buried vehicle as Marshall watched, "A dead CTV. When was the last time we found one of those that still worked?"

She reached the vehicle and began brushing snow off of it, making her way to the front, "Hopefully today! Or rather—wait..." she frowned as she searched for the right words, and then shrugged, "whatever! Besides, there's no harm in checking." The doors by the driver's and right passenger seats were open and the seats themselves were covered in snow, but there were no keys in the ignition. A quick search around the cabin did not yield them, only a few lost and unwanted objects remained in the car, like lint, stray paper clips and used staples, along with a curious, dark stain in the back seat. Undeterred, Anna began to search more thoroughly.

Marshall stepped forward to watch her, but stopped and stared at the car, his brows furrowing, "This is a Cruisemaster, isn't it?"

"I...guess so?" Anna replied from inside the vehicle. "I never really got into cars or anything, so I'm not sure. As long as it could get from A to B and could go fast, I didn't really care about anything else." She poked her head out. "Why? Is there something special about the Cruisemaster?"

"Yes," he said without turning, and lightly brushed a hand along the hood, "they were the only Civilian Transport Vehicle model that was used by the staff at Arendelle manor..."

Anna's eyes widened as she took in what that implied, "so that means...this is Kristoff's car?"

"It's entirely likely."

She laughed triumphantly and punched at the air with a loud whoop before hopping around to point at Marshall, a giddy smile plastered on her freckled face, "and  _you_ said we weren't going to stumble upon anything!"

"I said we weren't going to stumble upon  _him,_ not-"

"Hey!" A third voice boomed, echoing off of the landscape. Anna froze, and Marshall drew his gun, searching for the source. He didn't have to wait long, as someone burst out through the trees up the hill from the opposite side of the road. He was clad in knit clothing with a coat, a bulletproof vest, winter boots, wool trousers, and a gray cap which he wore on his head. A long, sharp, and clean hunting knife hung from a belt at his waist, and he carried a powerful-looking rifle in both hands. He slid down the white slope and pointed it at Marshall before approaching slowly.

"Put the gun down!" he yelled, and Marshall ceded, dropping his handgun in the snow, and raising his hands above his head. Anna did the same.

"Now turn around..." the man commanded sternly and slowly. His grip was steady, and he did not tremble with fear or anxiety. He was focused, and gave off the air that he knew exactly how to use his firearm. "...and walk away. Now."

Anna's hands came down into more a placatory gesture, "Look, we don't mean any trouble-"

Marshall hissed at her, "Anna..."

"If you aren't looking for it, then do as I say!" The man's finger twitched, and he suddenly looked absolutely furious.

"We're looking for someone-"

"A likely story on top of a fucking mountain."

"Someone who doesn't like being around people."

The man was silent. His throat bobbed as he swallowed. No one said anything, or even moved, for a long time.

Anna glanced around before breaking the silence, "So...have you seen anyone?"

"Get out of here before I shoot you."

"What?"

" _Get out!_ "

"Anna, let's go, he's not dicking around." Marshall was still eyeing the man and his rifle.

Anna groaned and whined, "But we've come so far!"

The man was approaching again, and Marshall stepped between him and Anna, "We'll leave, just please put your gun down."

"I'm the one giving the orders here, you wanderer."

Anna's eyes lit up, "wait, does that mean you live around here?"

The man's eyes widened and his composure loosened again. Teeth gritted from behind closed, pursed lips. Anna frowned suddenly, eyes squinting slightly; something about his face seemed oddly familiar.

Marshall grabbed the rifle barrel with his left hand and lurched it to the right. The man fired in surprise as he was pulled forward before receiving a right hook in the nose that sent him tumbling. Marshall flipped the gun around and aimed it, staring coldly down the barrel at the recovering stranger, who was now on his hands and knees, spitting out blood. The tables were turned. "I don't take kindly to people threatening my charge."

The man laughed cynically, and slowly stood up into a crouch, wiping his bloody nose, "Your charge? What's the point in protecting someone other than yourself in this frozen world? A sense of duty? Love? Self interest?"

Without warning he sidestepped, the sudden motion causing Marshall to fire at where the man had been. The other man drew his knife and slashed, but the large bodyguard leapt back with a surprising amount of agility. He backed Anna away in time to catch the man's arm as he swung again. He dropped the knife and used the free moment his opponent spared to glance at it to pull him down with his captured arm, roll over his shoulder, and secure him into a chokehold. Marshall dropped the rifle as both of his hands went to try to pry the man's arms off. A quick knee to the lower spine sent the bodyguard to his knees in the snow and he coughed.

"Stop! Stop it, both of you!" Anna grabbed the attacker by the back of his coat with both hands and literally flung him off of Marshall with much more force than seemed possible for her size. He landed on his back in the snow with a grunt, bounced, and rolled a considerable distance. He sat up again, "how on earth did you..." he trailed off as he stared at her, with her flushed cheeks, thin pouting lips, and brilliant orange hair styled in braided pigtails, with a curious streak of white as brilliant as the powdery, wintry ground around them, and everything fell into place.

"Anna?"

He had hardly recognized her, but it was hard to unsee it now that he had realized. She was a few years older now, and her face had a much more angular and sallow look to it with more pronounced cheekbones and freckles, likely resulting from both an increase in maturity and from living meal-to-meal. He noticed a scar running across her cheek to her ear, and other nicks, blemishes, and callouses that were inevitable after years of hard living. While her teal eyes were still as bright and lively as he remembered, they were not the eyes he once knew. They had lost something, something that he then realized was missing from every part of her.

"What happened to you?" He whispered, half to himself.

"The world has changed, and I'm just trying to keep up." Anna said as she strode over to him. He stood up, and she didn't even flinch, didn't even break eye contact. She stared intently at him, trying to look beyond the dirty blonde beard and the dirt and grime. She saw the large nose, the strong jaw, the brown eyes under thick, dark brows, with a small and light smattering of freckles, and an abstract wall from behind which his surprise and pity were leaking.

"Kristoff...Holy shit. Holy  _shit!_ " she whipped around at Marshall, who was still trying to stand, and jabbed a finger at him, "you are not allowed to doubt me anymore!" She noticed a movement out of the corner of her eye, and whipped around to see Kristoff walking away with a retrieved rifle and knife. "Hey!"

"It would be best if you forgot you ever saw me."

She scoffed and started trying to jog after him through the snow and up the incline, "Like hell that's going to happen! Do you have  _any_  idea how long I've been looking for you?" She gestured to Marshall, "how long  _we've_  been looking for you?"

He turned, "Why would you be looking for me?"

"I need you to help me find Elsa."

"And what makes you I think I would know where she is?"

"Wha- You were her  _bodyguard_ , and you-"

"It wouldn't matter even if we knew where she was," he spat cynically.

"What do you mean? That's how we'd  _find_ her!"

"It doesn't matter because she's  _dead_ , Anna!" She had struck a nerve, and he was yelling now. Anna seemed to be going through denial, but her face hardened quickly after the vulnerable moment. She spoke quietly. "Did you see her die? Did you even see her body?"

"No."

She shook her head."Then you don't know." her voice cracked, and she sounded like she was on the verge of tears. "You don't tell me my sister is  _dead_  if you don't even  _know!_ " Her cries echoed off of the ice of the mountain and the timber of the trees, fading off and leaving an air of command, like that of a monarch, of a queen. Her breath was shaky. "Look, if you're not looking for her—if you've  _given up_  on her, then at least tell me what you know. You do that, and you'll never have to see my damned face again. If not, everyone in these wastes is going to know about you and whatever little stockpile or whatever it is that you're so damn keen on protecting! Is that clear?!"

He turned away from her, and continued his walk. "You're such a spitfire, and that's the last thing I need." He walked off into the trees and out of sight.

Anna was left staring after him, dumbfounded. "Did he seriously just..."

"Does this mean we're going to tell everybody?" Marshall asked, "because the last time I checked, the only other person around here that we know who's still alive is Olaf." Anna took off after Kristoff's tracks and Marshall scoffed, "are you serious?"

"He obviously knows something! And I'm going to find out what it is even if it kills me!"

"I do not approve of this plan," Marshall grumbled as he trudged along after her.

"And I could frankly care less. Now c'mon, you big lug."

— —

The wooden door to the cabin opened roughly as the heavily clothed man entered through it. He placed his rifle next to the frame, and slid back the chain that prevented the door from opening more than a small crack before taking off his hat. The interior of the cabin itself was free of dust, and once again worn from heavy use. Ration cans littered the floor, and a cooking pot hung in the fireplace. The lights were also flickering; he needed to clean the snow off of the solar panels on the roof. In fact, he had needed to do it for a while now; the backup power in the cells could last for weeks before they began to sputter or fail.

He sighed and flopped down onto the sofa, procrastinating further. After a moment spent staring at the wood-paneled ceiling, he reached down and padded around for his lute, before strumming it once, and singing.

" _Reindeers are better than people._

_Indeed, I know this to be true,_

_for people will beat you and curse you and cheat you._

_Everyone of them's bad, except a few._

" _But people smell better than reindeers,_

_yet it still doesn't make things right._

_For the evil in man is deceptively true,_

_in the hearts and the eyes they oppose._

He trailed off sadly, rolling through thoughts as cynical as his lyrics, and began to nod off. Right before he slipped into the unconscious comfort of sleep, a five-step knock sounded at the door, and jarred him awake. Kristoff would have normally said nothing to the intruder, and hoped that they would simply go away, but he knew that knock, and that its owner wouldn't be deterred so easily. He still waited for a moment, just in case, but as expected, the knock was repeated, and much more violently.

He turned over on the couch, "Go away."

"Not until you tell me what you know about my sister!"

"There's nothing worth telling. Now, are you going to go down there and tell everyone like you said, or were you just bluffing?"

"Oh, I  _will_  tell them, but I just decided to give you another chance first because I'm so," she kicked the door. "Damn," another kick. "Nice!" The third kick left a crack in the door, and he heard her exclaim and mutter in pain as she hopped around on the porch. Seeing that the wooden entrance wasn't going to hold up against her onslaught, Kristoff rose from the couch with a heavy sigh, and went over to the door, picking up his rifle from where he had left it. He unlocked the deadbolt but left the chain, a good decision, as Anna attempted to barge in the moment she heard the click of the lock, thrusting the door open as far as it would go before stopping abruptly with a loud slam.

Teal eyes and freckles glared out through the thin crack in between the door and its frame, and looked down to see the barrel of his rifle pointed at her abdomen. They flicked back up without any sense of apprehension visible in them. "If you aren't actually planning to shoot me, you shouldn't be pointing that thing around."

"What makes you so sure that I'm not?"

"If you had planned to kill me, you would have done it back there on the road. Either that or you're so bad at murdering people that you're still trying."

Kristoff exhaled sharply in amusement at her words, so oddly similar to the ones he had once heard from another. He pulled the gun away and placed the butt of it on the ground as he gripped the barrel, holding it like a staff. "Fine, but I'm still not letting you in, feistypants."

"Do you really think you can stop me?"

"If you trespass, I will consider you a threat, and then I  _will_  shoot you, regardless of the past."

She growled in frustration, "Just let me in! Don't shut me out like this!" her fists slammed into the door and stayed there as she leaned her head against it. "I've had enough of that already. I don't care if you think it's pointless, but I  _need_ to know what happened to her!"

Kristoff said nothing, and thought for a long moment; If he went along with her demands, which would only cost him all the peace and quiet he had worked so hard to maintain, she would probably go away. If he didn't, the only other way to get her to stop would be to kill her. Despite how cold-hearted he had sounded before, the thought of taking Anna's life did not actually sit well with him in the slightest. It wasn't the notion of killing itself that had deterred him—he had taken enough lives during his military career to become desensitized to the idea—it the thought of extinguishing the flame of hope that resided within her, and that had lit up the world for her sister, and for a time, himself as well, that did. He let out another heavy sigh and closed the door to unlatch the chain.

"Hey!" Anna pounded on the wooden planks, "don't you dare-" she was suddenly pitching forward, falling into the cabin, but was stopped from hitting the floor by two pairs of arms as both Marshall and Kristoff managed to catch her. "Sorry," Anna said with a sheepish laugh.

"Just get in here, both of you."

— —

The fire burned in the grate of the cabin's modest hearth, and Anna sat by it on the small sofa with Marshall, legs clutched about her knees, staring into the flames, lost in thoughts about Elsa, Kristoff, the ice, the past, and the journal. Kristoff stood by the couch, his arms folded over his chest. "What do you want to know?" he asked without preamble.

"About Elsa? Everything. Tell me everything- well actually, no, not everything. Start at...um..." she turned to Marshall, "how far did we get into his diary?"

The large man's brows furrowed, but right before he could say anything, Kristoff interjected. "Wait, you've been reading my journal?"

Anna whipped back around, "Oh! Um, yes, yes we have. Sorry, but it was all we had to go on." She smiled a little to herself, and her eyes wandered back to the fire, "I definitely learned a lot..."

"How far did you get?" he snapped.

She looked up to see that his face was turning red—not with anger, but with embarrassment.

She looked back down, also beginning to blush, "Up to when you brought her to the cabin," she looked around, "This cabin, I suppose."

Kristoff sighed, and covered his face with a hand, before using it to scratch at his beard, "Well then. That's pretty far."

"Yeah, we're almost done with it, and Olaf might have actually finished it by now."

Kristoff groaned, not pleased that the journal was still in some else's hands. "I want that back."

"Right, sorry...though I told you that you wouldn't ever have to see my face again if you told me everything so I'm not sure if I'd be able to return it without um-"

"Enough of that. You're already here, so we might as well get this over with."

"Okay..." Anna spared a glance at Marshall and his cut lip before looking back at Kristoff. "Do you have any band-aids?"

"Yes." He left to go rummage through the first aid kit, and returned shortly after with an appropriately-sized bandage, which he handed to Anna. She scooted over to Marshall and opened it before giving it an odd look.

"Reindeer?"

Kristoff seemed slightly embarrassed again, "It's all I have. I thought you knew that already."

"No, I didn't. It's adorable though." She smiled at it.

"Oh."

 _I suppose that's a good thing,_ Kristoff thought to himself. _Her not knowing about it I mean, not the...other part...Wait, why I am I making up excuses in my own thoughts?_

Marshall gently pushed Anna's hand away when she tried to put the bandage on his face, and she reluctantly put it back down. She then leaned forward and continued speaking, "so...what happened after the cabin?"

Kristoff's eyebrows raised as he exhaled with a clap, "A lot. I'm going to go get a chair."

Upon his return, he sat down, cleared his throat, and began.


	6. Mental Synchronization

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I composed a track meant to reflect the themes and tones that I associate with Winter's Guardian. I suppose that makes it a literal theme song. https://soundcloud.com/the-vertigo-master/let-it-go-winters-guardian-mix I also have some other stuff up there and on Bandcamp (same name as on here) if you're into EDM.

It was the night after we had returned from the cabin. Elsa sat at her desk in the darkness of her study, wearing her nightclothes—a simple pale blue camisole with flannel pants that were darker, but of the same hue—and working away at the large, thin trio of monitors that had risen from a compartment at the edge of her desk. Her fingers flew across the touch-sensitive surface of her keyboard, pattering rapidly and softly like droplets of rain against an umbrella, as the pale blue light of the screens shone brightly on her hands and face, lighting up her equally pale skin and hair, the latter of which was left down, free to cascade in thick locks over her bare shoulders and down her back. Her bangs were swept back out of her face, though one rebellious tendril in the front strived to reach the ground, held back and tied down by obligation and duty from its star-crossed lover below.

She hardly blinked as she worked, but when she did, the movement of her lashed eyelids was heavy and slow. She would occasionally completely forget to open them before moments later jarring back to awareness, and continuing on as if the lapse had never occurred.

"You seem tired," I commented.

"Hmm."

"Perhaps you should rest." I checked my watch, which listed the time as 2:13 AM. "It's getting late."

"So it is," she conceded. I waited for her to finish up the last bit she was working on and stand, but she never did. I let it drag on for about another minute before inquiring of it.

"Ma'am?"

"I will turn in shortly. You may go on ahead."

"Very well then."

It wasn't technically an order, and I had no inclination to believe that she would actually follow, so I decided not to leave. At least a full five minutes had passed before she even noticed. Her eyes narrowed as she looked up at me with an irritated glare. "Did I not just dismiss you?"

"You implied that I had a choice, so I elected to stay."

"Oh, well, allow me to rephrase that then.  _Go away._ "

"As you wish." I turned on a heel and proceeded to follow the order, concealing my slight disappointment flawlessly. Though there were no longer any formalities dictating that I hide such things in private company, getting Elsa unnecessarily riled up would hardly help calm her already-frayed nerves.

— —

I was not surprised by what I saw the next morning, though I was nonetheless disappointed. Elsa had taken the liberty of having breakfast in the manor's main dining hall, a large and high-ceilinged room with a massive table of polished and varnished wood stained a dark brown and surrounded by about 20 chairs of the same color and quality; the exact number of them was unknown to me, as I had never bothered to count, or even cared enough to. Elsa always came early to avoid running into Anna; she was as consistently late to rise as Elsa was to wake at the crack of dawn. Upon her arrival, which was ironically later than usual, I groaned internally. She was wearing shades again. Indoors. She did not acknowledge anyone as she entered, which was normal, but it seemed to have more to do with her being incredibly preoccupied than with being aloof. Her bangs shaded her brows while the rest of her gold-white hair was pulled back into its usual bun. She was wearing a semi-fitted black suit today with a purple blouse, somewhat unusual for her, as she generally always wore very light colors. She went about and looked around at everything besides her staff as if there was something subtly surreal about the space, finding oddities in the swirls of wood, and something mystical in the rays of morning light that came in through the tall, paned windows along the wall.

She sat down at the seat halfway along the length of the immense table, directly across from me. Her breakfast was placed before her, an omelette, topped with seasonings and shredded parmesan and that appeared to contain tomatoes, onions, and some other variety of cheese. The meal also included two sausage patties, a biscuit, and a steaming mug of something I couldn't see. Upon noticing it, Elsa immediately drank from the cup, and I could only assume that it was coffee. She frowned at it afterwards, likely disappointed by its taste; she had in the past always insisted that I obtain her coffee from the same corner coffeehouse, a small mom-and-pop sort of affair called Oaken's, though it would be more accurate to call it a pop-and-pop, as the owner—unsurprisingly named Oaken—ran the shop with his husband.

Elsa lightly placed the cup back down on its ornate coaster of engraved cork and metal, and her impassive lenses looked up in my direction. Her frown deepened.

"You're staring."

"I'm observing."

"Hmm." She picked up her silver, modern fork and knife, and began to cut into her omelette, feigning indifference so well that I would likely be the only one to notice the truth.

Another staff member placed my own meal before me, toast with jam along with scrambled eggs and bacon. After hearing the heavy closing of a door echo back to me, I glanced around at the room to find that all the servers and dining staff had all left. Such a thing would seem odd and unbecoming in most households when their employer and mistress was still seated at the table, but most mistresses were not nearly as outwardly callous or dismissive of their servants as Elsa was. After eventually coming to understand that she did not usually require or desire their presence, they had learned to stay out of her way. Now they would simply place her food before her, and only returned to the dining hall once she had left in order to collect her dishes and cutlery. They knew that if she required anything, she would just ask me. As a result of all that, Elsa and I were often alone in this room, and could generally speak privately.

"Did you sleep well?" I asked in a tone meant to show that I knew full well that she did not.

Though it was hard to say for sure with the aviators blocking her eyes, I could tell by the set of her lips that she recognized it.

"Must we always make small talk when we're alone?" She was avoiding the subject, but there isn't much of anywhere to hide from the watchful eyes of a hawk when you're stranded on a plain. Her behavior was very predictable, but seemed oddly childish.

I shrugged subtly, "I suppose not, though I feel there is a matter we should discuss."

She sighed, and cut to the chase. "Why are you so stingy about my sleeping habits?"

"To be honest, I am more concerned with your habit of  _not_  sleeping; it's hardly healthy and is worsening your stress."

She popped a forkful of egg into her mouth, chewed thoroughly, and swallowed, "It's not that big of a deal."

"The bags under your eyes beg to differ. They're so dark that you're wearing shades to hide them. If that's not an obvious enough sign, then nothing is."

"You're absolutely right." she raised her utensils again, "Nothing is, because nothing's  _wrong_." The knife clanged loudly against the porcelain plate as it cut clean through the omelette. A pale texture began to form with a crackle where her fingers touched the metal.

"Elsa."

"I'm not going to put anything off," another forkful, "I have too much to do to prepare for the merger and other affairs."

"Tasks that I'm sure can be easily delegated to other employees."

"I'm afraid not." She dabbed at her mouth with her napkin. "Mistakes cannot be tolerated, and those that are caused by others can be easily avoided if I complete their tasks myself."

"You know, you're even more prone to messing up when you keep working yourself to death." I cocked my head to the side, mouth pursed and squinting slightly as I suddenly noticed something peculiar about her. "In fact..."

The sausage on her fork was raised halfway to her mouth when she stopped abruptly, "What?"

"Your shades are upside-down."

The fork hand tensed, and the other placed down her knife before reaching for the bridge of her nose to find that the silver aviators were indeed upside-down. She took them off quickly, and I managed to see the extent of the dark marks and the redness of her eyes before she placed the shades back on correctly, blushing furiously.

"They actually don't look that bad. You might not need those today."

"I can't afford for them to be seen at all. It sends a bad message."

"To be frank, Ms. Elsa, wearing them makes you look like you have a hangover, which I believe would send an even worse message than the evidence a sleepless night."

"Seriously?" She seemed genuinely surprised.

I frowned, subsequently puzzled by her reaction. "Yes. You're wearing shades at inappropriate times, drinking coffee, and look generally miserable. To the casual observer, a hangover would likely be the first assumption to cross their mind, and judging by how often you've worn those shades in the past, their second one would probably be that you're an alcoholic."

"Oh. I wasn't aware...though that does explain why almost all the gifts I've been receiving lately have been wine or liquor of some kind..."

I rubbed my eyes in exasperation, "did you seriously not realize this before?"

She removed her shades, and blinked back the influx of light that began to assault her eyes. "No. I've never had one before. I hate the taste of wine; it's too bitter." She folded the sunglasses and placed them down on the table before looking up at me with ringed, uncertain eyes. It was another rare moment of vulnerability. "Are you sure it looks alright?" she asked worriedly.

I smirked, "If they ever managed to get past the deep, wintry blue of your eyes, they might notice a little." I frowned to myself as I realized what exactly I had just said. Elsa's lightly freckled cheeks flushed, and she quickly finished her breakfast. Afterwards, she collected her shades and stood.

"We should leave. I don't want to run into Anna."

I disapproved of her haste, but I did not express it. "Yes, ma'am."

— —

Two hours later, I found myself standing against the wall besides the door to Elsa's office, with Mr. Syd leaned up on the other side of it. I scanned the empty hallway, taking in its light gray tiles, its pale walls with decorative and minimalist beige padding and small simplistic pillars of reddish-brown wood spaced evenly along, and the long fluorescent lights that seemed to blend in seamlessly with the ceiling's contrastively dark surface. On the far wall, windows stretching almost from the floor to the ceiling allowed in a reasonable amount of light, the auto shades built into the glass preventing the full intensity of the blinding rays from entering. Nothing seemed amiss or out-of-place.

I heard an odd metallic click, and looked towards the sound of it to find Mr. Syd holding a lighter, and using it to ignite the cigarette sticking out of his mouth.

I frowned in disapproval. "You do realize that you can't smoke in this building, or anywhere else really, don't you?"

He shrugged and snapped the lighter closed as he inhaled the gaseous poison. A hand gripped the small roll and removed it as he exhaled, the cloud billowing out like condensed vapor, only darker, and much deadlier. He smiled wistfully. "We all do dumb things when we're young, things we come to regret."

"You still  _are_  young."

He shrugged again, and I noticed tension in his jaw, a flash of anger visible through the crack I had made in his mask. Hans took another drag, and placed his hands in his pockets. "I can understand why you despise me, Bjorgman. As I'm sure you know, my  _family_ ," he said the word with such venom that he practically spat it, "owns South Isles Corp, the company that is merging with Frost." He took yet another pull on the cigarette. "My reputation also precedes me. Surveillance and covert operations aremy specialty, and I have been told that I am deceptive and manipulative."

"If you're trying to gain my sympathy, you might as well just stop talking."

He smiled, "I wouldn't dream of doing something so futile. All I'm saying is that I harbor neither you nor Ms. Arendelle any ill will. I'll admit that I have my own motives, but doesn't every man? We all have our reasons for the things that we do, regardless of what others may believe or think."

"Your words don't mean anything to me. Only a naïve fool would bother to trust you. Save your breath."

That damned smile of his returned. "Perhaps. I merely said it because I wanted to. Whether or not you believe the truth is insignificant; it doesn't change what it is."

The similarity between his words and those that I had shared with Elsa at the cabin struck me as odd, and a strain of paranoia began to creep in, leading me to fear that he had perhaps found us up on the mountain. Then again, it also wasn't unlikely that he had come up with the words on his own—a simple coincidence, and considering his personality and demeanor, one that wasn't unlikely.

Mr. Syd glanced back at me, and changed the subject. "How do you think the boss is going to handle the merger? From what I remember of my research, she only inherited the company a few years ago after her parents had passed in that plane crash. I know the Arendelle family line has always liked to stick to its old traditions, but placing an inexperienced young woman at the helm of a multi-billion dollar company hardly seems logical, even if she is their eldest daughter." He took a final pull on the cigarette before pulling out a small, silver case from his pocket with a gloved hand. When he opened it and dropped the crumpled and burnt stick inside, I saw that it was a portable ashtray. He closed it with a snap and returned it to his pocket, and his expression suddenly darkened. "You know, she never came back to see me after I tried to tell her about my findings." I secretly grinned at that; his suffering and misery never ceased to please me. He continued, wearing the most cocky and condescending expression I had ever seen, "it seems she doesn't care nearly as much as you so defensively claim."

My hidden smile flipped in an instant. "She didn't say anything to you because I had told her after you parted ways with us to retreat to your little cave. Don't mistake your arrogant sense of self-importance for her incompetence. You're just a bodyguard who hides in the shadows, and a rookie on top of it all."

Either Syd's façade wasn't nearly as strong as I had believed it to be, or I was pushing all the right buttons. His skin flushed, his hands clenched, and the last vestiges of tobacco smoke blasted from his nostrils in a huff. He looked away, and seemed to be trying his best to pretend I wasn't there. It was the only thing he could do, as we were not permitted to leave our posts, and he knew I wouldn't hesitate to inform Elsa if he were to try skipping out.

The door opened just then, and Elsa came out, with her tired and shadeless eyes, carrying her black jacket under her arm. After looking between Syd and I, and noticing how he was turned away like a petulant child, her default, cold gaze dropped into a frown, and she looked up at me. After a moment, I realized that she was giving me a look, one which meant to communicate a lot more than seemed apparent.

_Don't antagonize the enemy. We'll discuss it later,_  she said—or rather, she didn't say. I was surprised that I was able to understand it; such communication was usually only shared between couples and longtime friends—a relationship level which I hadn't thought we'd reached yet. Or ever. She turned and proceeded down the hall, heels clicking as Syd and I fell into step behind and beside her.

I had assumed that she was heading home from the office early, and was surprised when she instead hit the down button on the elevator. If she was going to talk to someone else in the building, she would have likely just called them to save herself time and needless face-to-face interaction, meaning that she was likely heading to the ground floor and somewhere else in the sprawling metropolis. In all the time that I've been in her service, Elsa Arendelle has never walked the streets of the city, always preferring to fly in via the helipad. Whether or not it stemmed from an aversion to the common folk, or to just folk in general, I did not know. I would have asked her right then if it weren't for Syd, but as he was there, I was forced to remain silent. Something in my expression must have given me away, as Elsa had glanced over at me expectantly for a moment, but turned back upon realizing her mistake. Her red lips twitched faintly with displeasure.

The elevator dinged, and the reflective, metal doors slid open to reveal the lobby, an impressively large entry space that reflected the company's immensity and prestige quite well, all full of shiny shades of gray tile and metal with sudden patches of rufescent wood panelling placed strategically in an aesthetic manner. Elsa stalked into the clean and professional space, heading straight for the large, revolving glass doors across from it that led to the outside world. The entire side of the lobby that faced the street was made of glass as well, and I could see the name of the company written in massive, crisp, sans-serif lettering on the outside, appearing backwards and revealing the beams of metal supporting it up from where I stood. As we neared the exit, Elsa squared her shoulders, as if preparing to step into a room full of poison gas, a tribunal, or some other kind of unpleasantry. We wound our way through the revolving door, and entered an entirely different world.

The streets were packed like any other major city, and a cacophony of sounds, sights, and smells assaulted our senses. Syd and I were relatively unaffected, but Elsa practically gasped aloud in shock before quickly schooling her features back into indifference, and setting off to the left. I took point, clearing the way ahead as Syd held up the rear, our combined efforts creating a decent berth around our charge.

She glanced around at us, and frowned at me. "What are you doing?"

"Basic procedure, ma'am."

"You don't know where you're going."

She pinched the fabric of my suit jacket on the upper arm, dragging me to the right and towards the crosswalk before marching out ahead of me. I sighed at her stubbornness, and did my best to keep pace with her.

A couple blocks later, we found ourselves in front of a modest coffeehouse. A wooden sign hanging from above the door read "Oaken's Trading Post", and a smaller one hung below it as an afterthought with the words "and Sauna".

I recognized the building, and looked down at Elsa with a somewhat disappointed gaze. "Had you of told me that this was our destination, I would have been able to maintain my position in front."

She didn't even spare me a glance as she walked inside. "It doesn't matter now. We're here."

The interior was just as humble as the outside of the establishment, small and cozy with a rustic feel that reminded me of my cabin. Almost every aspect of the room was constructed out of wood, with the exceptions being the hearth embedded in the left wall, composed of stone and mortar. The windows were of course made of reinforced safety glass, like all urban shopfronts. About a dozen tables were arranged around the room, each with their own accompaniment of chairs. The only light in the space came from the large fireplace and the comparatively dim lanterns on the tables and the walls that supplemented it.

"Hoo-hoo!"

Elsa and Syd's heads whipped around, startled, towards the back of the room, where an extremely large man sat behind a long counter, directly opposite from the front doors. He was smiling broadly with his hands folded before him, projecting a gentle and unobtrusive air around himself. Unlike the rest of my party, I had been here several times before, and was no longer startled by the quiet, jolly giant's unique ability to escape notice.

He beamed, "Welcome to Oaken's! I can take your order, ya?"

Elsa gave him a small, polite smile, and headed towards a table near the far corner of the room. Syd and I began to follow, but she turned back and glared at Syd, who suddenly began to resemble Sven.

"What are you doing? Go order lunch."

Syd appeared confused and slightly bewildered. "Um...What should I order?"

Her gaze became incredulous. "The usual?"

"Which is?"

The blonde exhaled in exasperation, and began to stalk off toward the counter. "Come on," she grumbled. She almost grabbed his shoulder, but retracted her hand prematurely as if it had been scalded, and continued on with Syd following her without contact.

I stayed at the table, and scanned the space around me. Oaken still sat behind the counter, now speaking with Elsa, and through the porthole in the door leading into what was presumably the sauna, I caught a glimpse through the steam of the owner's husband, whose name I did not know. He saw me as well, and waved while seeming to mouth Oaken's odd, trademark greeting. I gave him a polite nod and looked elsewhere. The rest of the tables were empty, which wasn't surprising; tourists were generally the only customers who actually came in to eat here. Everyone else simply ordered from elsewhere, online, or otherwise, and had their meal or drink delivered. The entire storefront itself was probably only here for those occasional tourists, and also perhaps for actually making the city aware of the business's existence.

I didn't really expect to find anything suspicious during my scan; performing it was honestly more of a habit now than anything. Nothing had ever seemed out-of-place during any of my previous visits to the small coffeehouse, all of which were necessary treks taken when the delivery service was unavailable for some reason or other.

Oaken's voice cut through my thoughts with sudden coherence. "Just a moment, your order will be ready shortly. That will be 1470 creds, ya?"

I looked over in time to see a still somewhat puzzled Hans next to an Elsa who was becoming steadily more irritated by it. She nodded towards the large man, and presented her chipped wrist for the register to scan. Hans whispered something to her, and after she nodded, quickly crossed the room and went down a hallway to the right of the sauna entrance. After completing her transaction, Elsa turned and walked back to our table, her heels clicking on the stone floor.

She sat down and placed her hands over one another on the surface of the smoothed wooden table, and followed my gaze when it flipped back to the hallway. "Mr. Syd is using the restroom," she explained.

"Seems more likely that he just wanted some privacy for his breakdown."

Elsa's brows furrowed, and her face took on a curious expression that squinted her eyes and almost admitted the ghost of a confused smile to her scarlet lips.

I continued, "Have you noticed how flustered he's been since we came in here? Right after you started antagonizing him he got all up in a fuss-"

She almost let out a single laugh at the expression, "up in a fuss?"

I waved her off, "Whatever, you know what I mean. Basically, he started getting uncomfortable the moment the situation was out of the predictable realm he thought he could control. I don't think that man has ever done any actual field work in his life."

"Perhaps," Elsa's gaze absently wandered back to the hall as it followed her thoughts. She smiled wanly, "I'm almost starting to miss Sven. He was incompetent as well, but he wasn't this bad."

I frowned, and my gaze drifted to somewhere far beyond the world around me. The memory of him always returned me to the glassy dead stare that he was now frozen with for eternity. While I had been almost as frustrated by his mistakes as Elsa was, I had to admit that I did actually care about him to some degree. The wave of melancholy crested over my loosened mask, and pulled Elsa down under its waves to drown her along with me.

"Do you know where he is?" I asked her.

She nodded, "somewhere where he won't be found, unless we want to find him."

"I wasn't aware you had such a place."

She smiled tightly.

"Would it perhaps be related to the place you spoke of in the cabin?"

"I'm not going to reveal that secret until you decide to unwrap a few of yours. Trust is a two-way street."

The lunch order arrived just then, carried by a young and familiar-looking short, pale man with overly large front teeth and wild, yet close-cropped, hair. His large, dark eyes lit up when he saw me. "Oh heya, Sven!"

Elsa jumped slightly at the noise, and I sighed, "It's Kristoff. Sven is- Sven was the other bodyguard."

"Oh right, right...wait—what do you mean  _was?_ " Olaf looked back and forth between us in confusion.

Another heavy sigh. Elsa turned to him, "Sven is...no longer with us."

"Oh ok, so I guess he just moved on to bigger and better things then," he nodded sagely. "No offense to you, of course, Ms. Arendelle," he added quickly.

We were too tired of being morose to correct the blissfully ignorant and blatantly innocent fellow, so Elsa simply nodded, while I said nothing.

The waiter suddenly remembered the entire reason why he was over here, and his entire countenance flipped around to his usual, strangely jolly demeanor. "Ah yes, and these lovely morsels here would be for you!" He set down a tall cup of coffee before Elsa along with a plate containing a sizeable slice of chocolate fudge cake. That was literally all that she ordered. For lunch. A basic and much more appropriate sandwich was laid before me, but I did not inspect it, as I was too preoccupied trying to figure out why the hell Elsa had elected to skip her meal all together and move straight to the dessert.

After the still-smiling Olaf left, I broached the brewing subject. "Are you planning to eat actual food this afternoon?"

She shot me a glare as she separated a portion of the soft, spongy cake from the rest of its sweet brethren with her fork, "You have way too many things on your absurdly long worry list to bother with fussing over my diet on top of everything else."

"Diet plays a massive role in your health, and as your bodyguard, I am tasked with ensuring your-"

"Oh for god's sake, would you stop saying that all the time? You're starting to sound like a robot. Hell, you already act like one half the time anyway."

I shrugged, "You're paying me to do a job, so I'm doing it. Though I never imagined I'd have to convince a grown woman to eat her vegetables, or at least something other than pastries."

"First of all, cake is  _not_  a pastry—and second, I  _do_  eat other things, but right now, I wanted cake, so I got cake. I'm an adult and I'm rich; I can do what I want. Deal with it." She plopped the fork and its captured prize into her mouth and practically shivered with pleasure. When she came down from her little high and opened her eyes, her pale cheeks reddened in record time, and her features snapped back into a glare. "Stop judging me."

"I'm not judging you."

She pointed her fork at me, "Yes, you are. I can see it in your eyes."

I gave her the most impassive look that I could, and she continued to glare back at me. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Oaken watching us from the counter, chin resting on a hand, and with a dreamy smile on his face. I suddenly began to realize how the whole scene must have looked from the outside. I faked a cough into my hand and leaned away from Elsa—I hadn't even realized that we had moved so close together—and she seemed to have also just noticed what happened as well, and sat back into her chair as far as she could before wolfing down her cake with gusto and grace, somehow managing to balance the two like an acrobat of etiquette. Her eyes dared to glance back at mine, and for a moment, my vigilant gaze was entirely, and unquestionably captured, enraptured by rings of crystalline blue ice surrounded by a smooth plain of white snow.

Mr. Syd returned to the table just then, breaking what I can't describe as anything other than a trance. Brown and blue gazes scurried away inconspicuously, and Syd's own eyes of green glanced between us for a moment before peering down and realizing sourly that he was the only one without a plate. I smirked to myself and shamelessly bit into my sandwich, slowly chewing out of spite as he attempted to hide a vicious snarl.

Elsa finished her cake, and placed her fork down before folding her hands, straightening her back, donning her mask, and turning to Mr. Syd. "I have a task for you, and I trust that you will be able to complete it without being an incompetent fool."

He smoothly met her gaze and nodded, managing for once to maintain his cool. "I will not disappoint you."

"Very well then. With the merger with South Isles Corp approaching, I believe it is imperative that we gain as much intel on them as we can. As this is supposedly your specialty, I am entrusting the reconnaissance to you. Is that understood?"

Syd smiled, "Yes, and as it so happens, I already possess the intel that you speak of."

Elsa's brows furrowed, and ice crept into her voice. "And yet you did not inform me beforehand?"

"Well, as you had not asked-"

"Tell us what you have learned," she interrupted, leaning back again and folding her arms over her chest.

Mr. Syd cleared his throat, covering his irritation at being cut off, and began, "As the youngest of thirteen brothers, I was never regarded by my family, or their associates, with any degree of respect. It was partly because they were not obligated to, and partly because there were so many of us that we each received direct attention only sparingly. What most saw was merely a polished glimpse. I have seen my brothers as they truly are, seen the personas that emerged only when they did not need to hide themselves behind those trustworthy and angelic facades that our father had taught us to wield. I have seen their cruelty as they beat me over toys and books, tripped me in the hallways, and excluded me from practically everything. I saw their selfishness as they hogged what we were meant to share, forced to sleep countless nights in the parlor when they decided to use my room for whatever the hell they pleased. I saw their arrogance as they purposely neglected me, going so far at one point to actually pretend that I was invisible, literally, for two years. They learned deception and diplomacy from my father so well that they were able to use it against him and our mothers; not all of us were born from the same one. The eldest five were from our father's first marriage with his childhood sweetheart, the next four from her sister after the other had died, three more came from the third marriage, which was done entirely for the sake of the company, and lastly, I...was the bastard."

"A terribly sad story, but I fail to see how it is relevant."

With tension in his jaw, Syd continued, "South Isles Corp is—as I'm sure you already know—run by my family. My father stands at the helm as CEO, but the entire board is controlled by my brothers. Father is likely nothing more than their puppet at this point. As vicious as they all are though, they are not a pack of wolves, and given the chance, they will not hesitate to turn on each other. They will try their best to manipulate you during your meetings with them, and unless you can somehow keep them reigned in, they will turn all of your allies against you."

"Lucky for me, I don't have any." She sipped from her coffee, "do you have anything else?"

"No, ma'am."

"Good. I want all the details of your findings written up into a report and submitted to me  _at check in_ ," she fixed a pointed stare at him, "not before."

"Yes, ma'am."

Elsa stood then, followed by both Syd and I, and left the shop. No one turned as Oaken waved us goodbye, and they likely did not notice him shiver from the cold draft that blew in through the door on that warm, summer afternoon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These chapters are getting longer every time, this one almost hit 6,000 words. Chapter 1 in contrast was about 4,000.


	7. Debugging

It was evening now, and I was once again alone with Elsa in her study. The desk's monitors were not raised this time, instead hidden below the wooden surface, and underneath slats with seemingly invisible seams. My charge was reading from her new tablet, and dressed in her pale blue nightclothes, a thin camisole with flannel pants that were of the same hue, only darker. Her hair was released from its tight bun, and the bangs were slicked back while the rest of the platinum-blonde locks once again hung down as a single long braid. She was also wearing glasses, squared-shaped lenses with black rims.

"Have you lost your contacts, Ma'am?"

"Elsa."

"Sorry."

She tucked back that one strand again, and flipped to the next page on her device. "I still have them, I just didn't feel like wearing them tonight while I read over these reports." She looked up from the bright screen of her tablet, the light reflecting off of her lenses, the frames, and the cerulean orbs that lay behind them. "They also keep frosting over," she admitted with a disappointed frown.

"You've had more trouble keeping control?"

She sighed, "It's just nerves. The merger's coming and I'm probably fine, but I just can't..." she put down the tablet and clutched her elbows with her freed hands. Her breath came out as mist, and she looked at me sharply, "I need a distraction."

"I thought you had already found one with all the extra work you've been doing."

"It's not helping."

I thought for a moment. "Is there anything you like to do?"

"What do you mean?"

"Like...hobbies. You seem to have plenty."

She stared down at the dark wood of the desk, "You do realize I don't actually enjoy doing any of those things, don't you?"

I shrugged slightly, and she sighed again, "I used to like sketching when I was younger, architecture and such. Father wasn't very supportive though, as I was to be the heir of Frost, and my mother of course sided with him, as always. I did have my way sometimes though." She looked up, "I actually designed the initial blueprints for our current headquarters."

"I...never knew that."

"I never told anyone." She watched as she began swirling a few snowflakes into a small cyclone on her desk. "Other than the planning crew and the construction supervisor, of course. I don't have any of my materials anymore though, and there wouldn't be much point in drafting something I won't ever build, so that's out."

An idea occurred to me as I watched her miniature blizzard, "Perhaps you could build something out of your ice. It could also be like stress relief in a way."

The little storm twitched. "I'm not sure if that would be the best idea."

"Just start small, and we can take it from there."

I caught a hint of her smile as it crossed her face before she dispelled the mini maelstrom, closed her eyes, and began to concentrate. "Alright then." She waved her hands out before her, manipulating the manifestation of her element into an arbitrary shape, transferring her intent from her mind to the world outside of it. The mass expanded upwards, and began to extrude, forming a humanoid shape. Details began to set as the swirls solidified into a pale blue, revealing a smiling face, and twin braids. Elsa's eyes opened slowly, but upon seeing her creation, and recognizing whom it was a likeness of, they widened to their limit in an instant. Her mouth gaped, grasping futility for words that would not come.

The sculpture was about 20 centimeters in height, capturing Anna twirling upon a pedestal, carefree and happy. It was beautifully crafted, accurate to memory from the smooth contours of the face, down to the eyelashes, dimples, and individual strands of hair.

The door handle turned with a clack, and then several things happened at once. Mr. Syd stepped in, glancing up as a panicked Elsa's arm swept across the desk, knocking the frozen masterpiece behind it, which I deftly caught mid-fall and placed back on top, and that Elsa tried and failed to block the view of before turning towards the door, all of which passed in about half a second.

Syd had stopped, somewhat ironically startled by the sudden flurry of activity, and Elsa, after fixing an accusatory glare at me, snapped back around towards the intruder and his leather-bound bundle of documents, pissed as hell.

"What are you doing? I said to send the report  _at check in_!  _Why_  is that so hard for you to understand?"

Syd frowned, and glanced over at the grandfather clock against one of the walls, "Ma'am, this  _is_  check in; it's seven o'clock."

The cold burn within her vanished, giving way to embarrassment. "Oh." She recovered quickly and straightened in her chair. Syd came forward, eyeing the statue. Elsa outstretched an expectant hand toward him, obstructing his view, and snatched the bundled folder from him when he presented it to her. Elsa didn't like to transmit sensitive information through the network; her aversion to the threat of hackers was greater than her distaste for needless social interaction. She untied the strings on the case and laid out the E-paper contents on the desk before swiping a few onto her tablet.

"You should learn to knock," she stated without looking up.

Syd took a deep breath, "I saw on the cameras that you were alone," he looked over at me, "for the most part."

We both froze, and while the air conditioning unit had cut off, the room still became steadily colder. I noticed frost collecting by Elsa's feet.

"You placed cameras in my office." Her voice was as calm as the surface of a frozen lake—a thinly frozen body of deep water that Mr. Syd was stranded in the middle of.

"Yes," he looked up at a corner of the room, where a small, black, inconspicuous orb was latched onto the ceiling. We hadn't even bothered to check for such things; we didn't think we would have needed to in here of all places. "Just  _a_  camera, to be specific," he looked back at Elsa, "You had said I was to guard from afar, which is very difficult to do without thorough surveillance."

Elsa wasn't standing for it, and counter-intuitively stood up, palms and arched fingertips on the desk. "You are officially on probation. You have infringed upon my privacy, which you have no right to do."

Syd looked offended, indignant, and began to complain like a petulant, spoiled child, "I was merely doing my job!"

"Debatable, and besides the point." She was furious, and the ice was spreading, even beginning to form on top of the desk as the air continued to freeze.

Syd's eyes glanced down for a fraction of a second, "Ms. Arendelle," he began tactfully, reaching a hand out as a diplomatic gesture, "if I may ease your-"

"No, you may not. Leave."

The hand clenched along with his teeth beneath white gloves and behind closed lips. "Yes Ma'am." He walked somberly to the door, yet attempted to preserve his dignity. Upon opening it, he took a step out and turned his toward Elsa, "A word of advice, and a warning: if South Isles catches wind of your little  _tryst_ ," he gestured between Elsa and I with his fingers, "you're going to have a major scandal on your hands."

"Get out."

He closed the door without another word.

Elsa sank back into her chair, dropping her elbows onto the desk and her head into her hands before letting out a sound that started out as a groan and morphed into a growl of frustration.

I exhaled, "I'm honestly surprised that you didn't fire him on the spot; that's what you usually do."

"Believe me, I wanted to, but at the same time, that son of a bitch actually has a point." Her hands dropped onto the desk and clasped together, "Surveillance is necessary, to a certain degree." With a violent shifting of her hands, she cast a shard of ice that hurtled towards and shattered the small ceiling camera, its pieces clattering against the walls and the potted plant below. Only then did she sigh with relief, before frowning again and crossing her arms over her chest, "The question now is how much does he know, how much has he seen, and what he thinks it means. And on another note," she began grasping at her hands anxiously, and looked up at me, "Why the hell would he think that we're...intimate? The notion is completely absurd."

Ignoring the sudden stab of pain that her small statement left in my chest, I replied, "I think it's more obvious than either of us realize. Take what happened at Oaken's for example: from the outside, we did appear suspiciously like a couple, enough so to be problematic, according to Syd. Even in these progressive times, this could easily be blown out of proportion by the media, and ultimately force you to resign."

I couldn't help but wonder what it would be like if Syd suspicions about our...relationship were true. The fact that I didn't find the idea abhorrent or immoral in any way disturbed me.

Elsa bit her lip, and her brows furrowed. She glanced up again and flipped to the ice sculpture. "Why did you put that back on the desk?"

"What do you mean? You accidentally knocked it off."

"I did that on purpose. I didn't want Mr. Syd to see it, but you just  _had_  to miraculously catch it."

"Well, sorry for being so coordinated. Besides, I couldn't bear to see a masterpiece like that destroyed when I had the power to do something about it."

Her face was rendered pink once again, "It's not that impressive."

"No other human could physically  _do_  this, of course it's impressive. Hell, it's more than that."

Her voice was almost a whisper. "Thank you."

The silence began to drag, and she looked up again, "If we were to..."

"End up like..."

"Yes. It could easily look that way."

I nodded, "we'll need to be more careful then."

"Or just careful. You're suggesting that we actually..."

"True. A misunderstanding would be..."

"Disastrous, for all involved."

"Exactly."

Elsa's eyes wandered back to the icy sculpture with a weary sigh, and after examining it, she carefully repositioned its placement on the desk. "We need to sweep for cameras," she stated plainly.

"That would be wise," I admitted as she stood, and then followed her out.

— —

We only went through the areas that Elsa frequented, as, like she had said, the idea of surveillance was reasonable enough to a certain degree, and Syd had merely overstepped that particular boundary by about several thousand kilometers. We started at the ground floor and worked our way up, visiting the bathrooms, the parlors, and the library, followed by the dining room, all of which contained quite a few cameras and microphones to Elsa's extreme annoyance and chagrin, and all of which she viciously shattered with ice.

We eventually arrived in front of her bedroom door, a wooden and beveled rectangle with a metal handle just like all the rest of them. It was painted white with little minimalist swirls and flowers. It was the main room from her childhood, a realm of mystery and secrets that I had never ventured into before. Elsa had decided not to move into the master bedroom chambers after her parents' passing, and instead continued to reside there in her old room.

She unlocked and pushed open the door, and bid for me to follow, likely sensing my apprehension. Her blue eyes looked up at mine, "you can come in, just don't touch anything. Or open anything."

"That would make it difficult to sweep for bugs."

"I'll do that, you just...handle the rest."

"Yes, ma'am."

She was about to correct me when she remembered that we might not have been as alone as we once thought we were, and instead just turned away, platinum-blonde hair trailing behind her as she entered the room. I followed, and found it to be somewhat chilly inside, which wasn't really surprising, considering. It was also clean and sparsely furnished, but she spent much more time in her study than she did in here, so that was to be expected as well. The dressers, vanity, and even the nightstands had quite a few drawers, a few of which were locked, and the top one on the left bedside table had a padlock  _and_  a keypad. So many secrets.

I drew my curious eyes away and cast them towards the ceiling and other crevices, searching for anything resembling what we had found in Elsa's study and the other rooms we had searched. With close observation, we usually found them quite easily; it's hard to make something inconspicuous while also placing it in a spot that acts as a good vantage point. Bugs were in some ways easier to hide, what with being smaller, but this time, I came upon nothing, as did Elsa as she rifled through the drawers and checked under and around the furniture. She sighed irritably and closed the last drawer with perhaps a bit more force than was necessary, grumbling, "Of all the places to put cameras, this should have been the most logical choice. Considering that he even had them in the bathrooms, privacy obviously means nothing to him on any level."

"Well, there is one place we haven't checked..." my eyes glanced over at the locked drawer.

Elsa's gaze followed, and her eyes widened, "Oh no, no, no, we're not looking through that one."

I shrugged, "You can check it on your own, I won't look."

She didn't say anything, but her face began to redden along with her uncomfortable expression. "Later. I don't want you in here when I..." Her suddenly shifty eyes glanced about the floor, and she changed the subject, "Is there anything else we haven't checked?"

"No, I've already reviewed all the viable positions."

She sighed, "we should move on then." She glanced at the locked drawer one last time, and stalked out of the room and its awkward atmosphere. So many secrets.

I had a sudden epiphany the moment I followed her out of the room. "Elsa,"

"What?"

"What if instead of searching the whole manor, we just looked for his control room?"

She stopped, physically startled by the clever and now seemingly obvious suggestion, "Wow, that makes a lot more sense."

She abruptly took a right turn down one of the halls, seemingly at random to me, and I frowned, "Do you even know where it is?"

"I've spent the majority of my life in these halls—granted it was under the cover of night, but I know of a good place for us to start."

We turned another corner and were suddenly by the elevator. A short ride up brought us to the fourth floor, with the landing pad and a CTV, which idled upon the helipad, on-call and waiting at all times in case it were to be needed at a moment's notice. Elsa continued forward and took a right down the hall closest to the exit doors, blonde braid whipping behind her as the last part of her that I saw before she disappeared down the corridor. I exhaled through my nostrils in annoyance at her disregard for safety, though I could hardly blame a person for feeling secure in their own home.

When I finally rounded the corner, I noticed immediately that it was a neglected part of the manor. The lack of windows cast it in a much dimmer light than the rest of the interior, and the walls and floor were noticeably less clean and maintained; parts of it even looked damp. I caught up with Elsa, whose pale clothes and hair stood out like lanterns in the dark hall.

"Watch your step," Elsa ordered without turning, hips swaying as she picked her way across the carpeted ground.

"Is there something wrong with the floor?" I asked.

She shrugged, and I frowned in puzzlement, before traversing the hall just as carefully, avoiding anything suspicious, just in case.

Before long, we came upon a door with a chip scanner and a keypad. Elsa placed her wrist up to the scanner, but was denied. She huffed, arm dropping loosely to her side, "Unbelievable. He reprogrammed the damn scanner."

"Well at least now we know this is probably the right room," I replied, looking around with folded arms. I examined the way from which we had come, hearing the crackling of ice from behind me, and attributing it to Elsa's frustration. "Perhaps we should wait for him to pass through-"

A heavy crash and the crumbling of something heavy—like stone—followed, and I whipped around to find Elsa standing before a rectangular hole that stood where the door had been. Crystalline blue remnants were left near the hinges while the rest of the door remained only as bright, translucent blue broken shards and pieces that were scattered on the ground inside the dark and smoky screen-lit room.

I sighed, off-guard, and with my heart still racing, "...Or we could just insta-freeze and break it. Yeah, really stealthy."

"I have no reason to care about stealth. I'm not the one in the wrong, and if we do happen across him with all the noise, the confrontation will make things much simpler."

A third pair of footsteps echoed from across the hall, along with an arrogant, sly voice that never failed to piss me off, "Simpler in what way?"

We both turned abruptly to find Mr. Syd approaching us, dressed not in his usual suit, but in an old white t-shirt worn under an equally used dark, olive-green hoodie that his hands were resting in. On his lower body, he wore faded socks and worn sweatpants. A lit cigarette stuck out the side of his smirking mouth, and a crumbly bit of ash dropped from the stick to further dirty the already dank and grimy carpeting. He took a drag from the roll and blew the cloud out at us, causing Elsa to squint against the thick smoke.

"I've had my suspicions for a while now, but haven't been able to confirm these abilities of yours until just now." His narrowed eyes widened for a moment, "It's really quite impressive, I must say, but it's also very, very... _curious_." He took another pull from the cigarette under hooded and sinister eyes of hazel that danced and glowed like an insidious bonfire, not unlike the tip of the papery rod of death that he held between his lips.

Elsa stiffened, "You knew we were coming." Her words were a statement—an acknowledgement of the truth, not a question.

His grin fell away to make room for a disappointed frown, accompanied by a condescending tilt of the head. "Of course. I'm not really sure how you expected to be able to sneak up on a man whose eyes can see literally the entire extent of this estate from the comfort of a chair and his pajamas. I've been monitoring the two of you for quite some time." The grin returned as he drew on the cigarette yet again. "You actually missed quite a few of my little presents."

"It's starting to look like this is about a hell of a lot more than just watching out for long-term threats," Elsa spat.

His smile widened; it would have appeared comical if not for his dark gaze. "In a way, you could still say that it is."

Elsa's jaw tightened, and the temperature of the room began to drop along with that of her demeanor. "It seems that your familial loyalties are intact after all," she growled.

Syd stopped short, and at first I thought it was because Elsa had hit the truth on the mark, but Syd sudden burst out laughing, letting out a terrible, cynical, and ominous cackle that sent a hand to his forehead and another to his hip, holding the cigarette, along with tremors of unease that went through all who heard his howling. His real mask was finally off.

"You humans always look at everything as either one or two colors. it's always either black and white with you all, one or the other. I'm not on anyone's side but _my own_ , Elsa. While your orders and South Isles' motives may be one thing, my personal interests are another altogether."

Her arms began to ice over, "and what would  _those_  interests be?"

"None of your concern." The smile was gone, replaced with the same masked expression that Elsa was wearing. The events that followed once again cast the veil aside, and capsized my recently settled understanding of the world, beginning the series of events that completely changed it all for the worse.

Ice came up from the floor as frozen knives, and it was only quick thinking on my part that prevented Elsa and me from being skewered on them as I tackled us both out of the way. After we landed hard and rolled onto a dry patch of the floor, I turned to her with wide and bewildered eyes, "What the hell are you doing?"

She was breathing hard and beginning to panic. Her voice was a frantic whisper, "that wasn't me! That wasn't me!"

I looked up, and saw Syd sneering, with his forearms covered in frost that shaped his fingers into dragon-like claws, cold mist emanating from the deadly, curved blades. I was stunned, "there  _are_  more of you..."

Syd spat out his cigarette onto the icy floor, and shrugged offhandedly, "it's not quite what you're thinking, but I don't feel like explaining. I'd rather not waste my breath!" His face twisted inhumanely, and a spire came out from his hands and found its way deep into my shoulder, splashing blood over my skin and the ground, and soaking into the fabric of my clothes as the force of the impact propelled me backward to slam into the wall with a grunt, and leaving me to hang from the embedded icy spear. I strained to squint through the pain and the darkness that surrounded my fading vision as gravity pressed me down onto the freely bleeding wound.

Elsa screamed in animalistic fury and heart-wrenching anguish, and I could feel the hairs on my arms stand up as the sweat on my skin froze solid in the now subzero air. The pain began to numb with the cold, and I saw Elsa as she ceaselessly threw and commanded wave after wave of ice at Syd with indefatigable fervor, while he would in turn block, deflect, and evade every single one of her attacks while skating around on the icy floor and the slick, frozen ramps that he would conjure. I couldn't tell if either of them were injured, my vision was beginning to swim, and the shapes slowly became more and more vague. An explosion rocked the world around me and jarred my fading consciousness from slipping into the void. Light shined suddenly and blinded me for a moment, pushing me even further from the edge within my mind. I saw Elsa climbing back up from a massive hole in the wall through which the fiery, orange light of the evening sun now streamed in, glinting otherworldly against the blue, frozen hues around the space. I saw Syd approaching her at his leisure, playing with snowflakes and icicles that he summoned as he gloated over his powers.

The wind was incredibly loud as it blew in, but I still managed to hear Elsa's voice carry like a spirit through the frosted air, "what the hell is  _wrong with you?_ " she screeched at Syd, and her eyes locked with mine for a split moment.

The damned, manipulative bastard chuckled, facing away from me, and I took the slinking chance by the scruff of its neck, reaching my unpierced, but still weak, arm up to the holster hidden within my suit jacket as I attempted to draw out the handgun from within it.

"You sound so cliché, Elsa," Syd continued, stepping closer to her.

It took me a few tries to yank the gore-covered firearm out of the holster; the cold had hardened the crimson fluid that had dribbled out of the wound and all over everything. It warmed at my touch and began to smear over my hand as I struggled to line up the sights of my gun with a single, shaking hand.

Syd took another step in his slow walk towards my charge, "Just because you're about to die, doesn't mean you have to be all dramatic about it." Her gaze left his again, and he started, whipping his head around, realizing all too late that he had made a mistake at the exact the instant that I fired.

The shot met its mark, splashing blood as he spun, lifting him off-balance, and sending him over the edge, out of the hole on the fourth story of the immense Arendelle Manor. I did not see him land on the grounds below, but I heard the sickening thump of his body and the crunch of his bones all too well.

My gun fell from my trembling arm as it refused to continue supporting the weight of the heavy, metal weapon, low as I was on the sanguine fluid that I depended on for life, and that was running down my body, dripping from my shoes and onto the messy ground below. I coughed, spilling even more blood, now from my lips, and the coppery taste reminded me of past memories that I had longed to forget. Elsa heard me and finally managed to scramble up onto the floor again, actually slipping on her- on Syd's ice as she came toward me. She was yelling something, but I was fading away again, and couldn't hear. I hoped that it was my name, and closed my eyes as I passed into the patient embrace of the darkness, with the cries of a blonde angel as the last thing I heard, and her lovely smile as the last thought to grace my brain.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that, my friends, is a cliffhanger. See you in two weeks. (I will do my best to avoid boats, so you needn't worry about me being lost at sea.)
> 
> Happy holidays!


	8. Changes

"Wait, you  _died?!_ " Anna was so distraught and confused that she honestly looked betrayed.

Kristoff shrugged rather helplessly, "I'm honestly not sure what happened. The next thing I remember, I was encased in ice, there was snow everywhere, and everything else was gone, lost in this wasteland."

"So  _you_  have amnesia too." She laughed bitterly, "Well isn't that just  _perfect._ "

He frowned sharply, "What do you mean  _too_?"

Anna looked down at her lap, "I can remember her face, and her smile, her favorite color, the things she liked, and the things she hated, but...that's about all. Everything else is just a blank, along with most of whatever else happened before this eternal winter."

Kristoff's expression darkened in a strange form of sympathy, and he stood up before leaving the room.

"Hey! Where are you go-" He came back with a hefty stack of leather-bound books, and placed them on the wooden coffee table. "Oh."

There were at least twelve of them, and they were all somewhat worn, with the worst condition ones being on the bottom, and the newest-looking volume sitting on top.

"These are the rest of the journals," he began, and started checking a few of the titles. "Some of them go before my time in Elsa's service, but the rest should lead up to what I can remember," he picked up a reddish-brown volume that was situated in the middle of the stack, "and hopefully farther." Kristoff held the bundle of memories in his hands in a moment of hesitation, before passing it to Anna, who took it gingerly. She glanced between Kristoff and the journal as if expecting him to at any moment change his mind, snatch it back out of her hands, and clutch it to his chest like a greedy leprechaun with his gold. He instead placed his hands in his pockets. "you can read them, just don't run off with them. I...don't want to lose these."

Anna nodded solemnly in understanding; these volumes were the only thing Kristoff had left of Elsa, whom she had begun to realize that he cared for very deeply.

"Did...did you love her?" She asked in a sudden burst of courage. She looked up into his eyes, and saw only pain and the sorrow that it brought, swimming in and darkening his brown eyes. He didn't say anything. He didn't need to. Anna dipped her head solemnly, and slowly took the book into her lap.

A board creaked somewhere outside, and everyone froze. Anna's gaze flitted around the room, and she glanced back at Kristoff as he got up and crept silently toward the door. "Were you expecting someone?" she asked.

"Stop talking."

"Wha-" Marshall clamped a hand over her mouth, startling her and Kristoff, who had both forgotten that the silent giant was even there. Marshall nodded at Kristoff as he continued to hold a now squirming Anna, and Kristoff returned it, before continuing to creep toward the door, picking up his rifle when he got up to it. He leaned up against the wooden door and waited, hoping again that the visitor would simply go away. They knocked again, and still Kristoff waited. He heard an irritated sigh from the other side of the door, and a familiar voice boomed, "Oi! Your lights are on! Stop trying to hide, ya?"

Kristoff groaned with closed eyes before exhaling sharply, and checked to make sure that his rifle was loaded. Marshall did the same with his handgun while Anna frowned as she sat, confused, unsettled, and now tightly clutching the journal to her warm chest, her heart pounding against the leather cover as her eyes flicked around rapidly.

The knock came again, and Kristoff dared to steal a peek out through a break in the boarded-up windows. About half a dozen men, armed with worn winter gear and old weapons varying from shovels and hatchets to hunting rifles and makeshift crossbows, were coming up the snowy lawn, with a giant of a man already standing by the door, dressed in a snow-dusted black coat over a muted blue turtle neck and with a small yellow-green hat atop his bearded, wind-flushed head. In one massive hand, he held a magnificently deadly 12-gauge shotgun.

"Fuck."

"What?" Anna looked after Kristoff again as he ran about the room, grabbing a large duffel bag from a corner of the room along with a hiking backpack and proceeding to add a few extra items from around the cabin. He dropped the bag by the low table next to Anna, and began scooping the journals into the gaping hole, before outstretching an anxious and impatient hand at the young woman as she watched in paralyzed confusion. "Give me the book!" he commanded insistently. Anna began to hand it to him and he snatched it roughly from her before throwing it in with the rest of the volumes and zipping the luggage up. He turned to the pair who watched him, "We're going out the back," he stated clearly, and then to Marshall specifically, "keep on your guard." The other bodyguard nodded, and started to follow Kristoff, with Anna tailing, towards the back of the cabin and around a corner. Kristoff managed to undo the latch just as the sound of splintering wood from the front of the cabin filled their ears. "Go! Hurry!"

They burst out into the biting cold as it whipped at them like tentacles and screamed at them like banshees, running through the drifts of snow and into the illusion of safety provided by the swaying trees. They still kept running underneath the canopy of pine needles, and could hear the shouts from the armed men behind them, along with loud, heavily accented calls of "find the bastard!" and "I want his head on pike!" among other vulgar and belligerent exclamations that were lost on the howling wind. The steepness of the slope began to increase as they half-ran, half-slid down it, and Anna tripped, causing her to roll down the rest of the way before tumbling out onto flat ground when they finally reached the base of the hill. Marshall helped her up to her feet as he passed, and Kristoff egged them both on, looking over his shoulder at the two of them as he ran, and then back up the hill where they had come from. Anna looked back too, and noticed a familiar black car parked on the road and half-buried in the snow. Beside the dead vehicle, four empty sleds with their dogs still attached now sat parked haphazardly in the clearing.

"Do you have a place where we can find shelter?" Kristoff asked as they continued to run. The gale was picking up even more, and bringing little flakes of sleet that whistled by—the harbingers of a merciless blizzard.

"We've all been camping out in a cave somewhere near the base of the mountain!" Anna yelled through the wind. Her eyes widened, "oh shit, we left Olaf there!"

"He's probably still inside, Anna," Marshall reminded her.

"But we've been gone for hours! What if he went after us?"

Kristoff perked up from the front, "Then we'd run into him on the way down, assuming he didn't kill himself trying to scale a cliff. There's only one safe route up or down this mountain."

They figured they now had enough of a lead now to stop running, and thus slowed their frenzied pace down to a brisk walk. The silence stretched on as they trekked for over an hour, creating a growing void that eventually not even the screams of the wind could fill. Anna couldn't take it anymore; something had to be said, even if it was just idle conversation. "That man out there wasn't...Oaken, was he? I think you mentioned him during your retelling, but he seemed more...I don't know, docile?"

"He was...once."

"What happened to him?"

Kristoff shrugged, "It's been five years, and the end of the world. A lot of things happened to him," he turned to the wind flushed Anna and looked into wide and curious teal eyes with lashes flaked with snow, "along with everyone else. We've all changed."

Anna looked back again at the path behind them, the subtly downward sloped incline with their sets of footprints gradually disappearing in the storm and the fog, and mulled over Kristoff's words for the rest of the journey down.

— —

Olaf was still reading when they came back, and he perked up when a flash of strawberry blonde passed into the flame-lit cavern. "Anna! You're back!"

Anna looked up at the sound, and smiled back at him, somewhat apologetically, but he didn't seem to notice or even care too deeply that they had left him behind.

"Why were you gone so long?" he asked casually, and his countenance suddenly shifted from relieved joy to a frozen expression of surprise as a bearded and gruff-looking Kristoff stepped in behind Marshall. Olaf gasped, "you found Sven!"

Anna whipped around, twin braids trailing,abruptly confused for a moment, but quickly understanding the mistake. She pointed at Kristoff while looking at Olaf, "Oh, no, no no, this is Kristoff, actually."

He gasped even more dramatically, "So you actually found him out there? Oh, that's wonderful!" He did a little dance where he sat.

Kristoff smirked at him, "Oddly, you don't seem to have changed a bit after all this time."

"Nope!" Olaf replied, and then shrugged before looking away, visibly burdened by an unseen darkness for a moment before his wide smile returned. He turned to Anna, "I've finished the journal, and I have  _so much_  to tell you!"

Anna pointed at the mountain man, who was glancing about the cavern, "Actually, Kristoff told us quite a bit too—that's actually kind of why we took so long," she added apologetically. Her hands clasped behind her and she leaned forward expectantly, "So where did the journal end?"

"July 14th in the afternoon, right after the scene at the coffee shop!" He beamed at Kristoff and the memory, before looking back to the book as he flipped through it, gesturing as he spoke with his free hand, "I've been going back over all of it and tried to analyze it for anything useful but-" he glanced up and stopped upon seeing everyone's worried expressions. "What? Does something happen afterwards?"

"Yeah," Anna exhaled, rubbing her forehead, "quite a lot, actually."

They began to quickly debrief and reiterate what Kristoff had told them before, finding their way to places around the fire as they spoke, and ending the whole recount with a presentation of the rest of the volumes, which landed on the stone ground with a heavy thud, and caused Olaf's eyes to widen.

"So..." he looked around at the others, "we all have amnesia?"

"What? No. No, you don't, and neither does Marshall, I think." She turned to him, "do you?"

The big man shrugged, and Olaf squinted slightly with his guilt, "I think he and I might actually have a few gaps," He pursed his lips and nodded confirming the thought in his head, "but it's nothing major," he added quickly, "not at all like what you two are missing."

He clapped his hands together and changed the subject, "Well, I suppose we should get started!" As Olaf grabbed and opened the next journal that they were to read, Kristoff stood up and stalked over toward the exit of their shelter, and Olaf whirled around to face him, "and just where are you going, mountain boy?"

"Don't call me that," he snapped. "I'm not leaving, I just don't like hearing people read my words," he admitted somewhat bashfully from under his mask, something which Anna was now beginning to witness firsthand. He sat down by the cave's entrance and stared out into the swirling maelstrom of whites, grays, faded blues, and orange reflections. Olaf shrugged, turned his attention to the new volume, and with a deep breath, began.

— —

I awoke to the sight of an off-white, tiled ceiling, and was so out of sorts that I couldn't bring myself to do anything but stare at it, studying the patterns of its markings and counting the tiles. I heard the beeping of the heart monitor to my right, and the shallow sounds of my breathing as the rest of my senses gradually began to return to me. Smell and taste were next, linked, and bringing forth a dry, rough, sandpapery feeling within my mouth, along with the fragrance of pine and the pleasant scent of the flowers I rarely found in the mountains, both of which graced my nose as I inhaled. Touch was the last thing, the feel of the uncomfortable bedsheets, the chafing of the rough and paper-thin hospital gown, the pull of gauze and bandages, an odd pressure of what I could only assume was an IV, along with the cold yet comforting feel of another's hands, clasped gently yet securely within my own, and the tickling sensation of long hair dancing languidly along my arm.

With considerable strain and effort, I managed to raise my head, and I saw her. Her head rested at my side, face down, and her pale hand gripped mine with another delicate palm atop it. Her head of unkempt and loosely braided platinum-blonde hair shone brightly underneath the fluorescent lights as it lay on the edge of the bed in a delicately beautiful heap. Her back rose and fell slowly, softly, as she breathed. I smiled despite myself, forgetting for a moment all sense of place and duty, of responsibility and reputation, but in a flash, all of those things returned to me, and my gaze hardened as my eyes swept the room like a hunter—or perhaps its prey—scanning around for the auburn shadow that was always there, watching with its arrogant, self-important gaze, but now, it was gone, and there was a long moment that passed before I remembered why.

The tempo of the heart monitor had increased from my anxiety, and the change caused Elsa to stir, letting out a soft moan as she sat up, blinking and rubbed at her eyes, failing to notice the worse case of bedhead that I had ever seen, and that had somehow managed remain hidden from my view before she had awoken. She blinked a few times to dislodge the remnants of her drowsiness, and looked down at my hand with a depressed sigh. She squeezed it tenderly, and turned to look at my face, inhaling sharply and freezing up just like her ice when she saw that my head was upright, and that my eyes were locked onto hers. I couldn't tell if she was going to scream or cry or be angry with me, but she did none of those things. She was speechless, and perfectly still except for the trembling of her hands, which were still clutching mine.

"Are you alright?" I asked.

"Why the hell are you asking  _me_  that?" she retorted with a wavering voice, though I could still hear the hint of sass underneath it.

I tried to shrug, but a pain as sharp as a thousand needles laced its way through my shoulder, and a wounded grunt escaped from my throat. Elsa's mouth formed a small "O", and her arms hovered helplessly over me as I cringed and rode out the wave of agony. "Good point," I conceded hoarsely, and settled back into the bed with a heavy sigh. I managed to chuckle through the still pulsing ache and burn.

Elsa couldn't help but smile, and let out a small laugh as her hands returned to mine.

"How long?" I asked.

"Only three days. They finished patching you up yesterday, and I- we've been waiting for you to wake up ever since."

I nodded once in understanding before my eyes were ultimately drawn up to the crazed, blonde mane that was sticking up all over the place. It drew an amused smile out of me, and she frowned.

"What?"

"Your hair."

Her eyes were suddenly like saucers, and her lips thinned into a line as heat flushed into her pale, lightly freckled cheeks. It seemed she understood immediately what I meant. I laughed as she tried to tame the mess with her hands, her skin slowly resembling a tomato more and more with each passing second. "Shut up," she mumbled through her embarrassment.

I was suddenly distracted by the light snowfall she had unwittingly summoned above us. The flakes fell lazily and collected atop us, but stopped upon her notice. She brushed the remaining flakes off of my face with her soft hand, lingering for a barely perceptible moment on my cheek, with a bashful apology written across her face, and something unreadable buried deep within her gaze, "sorry."

"It's fine," I said lightly, but my expression then sobered as a series of memories began to return to me, "what's the news on Syd?"

Elsa also became more serious, and hung her head in defeat, staring down at our connected hands as she soothed them with a thumb, "they haven't found his body yet, though I'm not quite sure how; I don't think he could have survived that fall." She looked back at me, "you and I both heard him land. That sound," her eyes became distant as they returned to that day, "...he couldn't have just..."

"He wasn't exactly normal though, was he?"

She shook her head, and sighed cynically, "for the first time ever, I met another person who was like me, and he turned out to be a manipulative and arrogant bastard that was for some reason out for my blood." She huffed, "I wonder what that says about me." Her crystalline blue irises flipped again up to look deeply into mine, "thank you though, for saving me."

I smiled, "I was just doing my job."

A silent pause ensued. Her head bowed, and her hands retracted slowly, settling into her lap as I watched, dejected and now emotionally hurt in addition to the wounds that made me bedridden. Her bangs, straightened yet still an unkempt mess, hid her face, and she murmured, "was that really all it was though?"

I frowned with furrowed brows in confusion, and couldn't find the words I wanted to say. In a sudden build of resolve, I decided instead to act. My fingers reached out and laced with hers, and she looked up again with eyes full of hope and wonder to see my genuine smile, which effectively communicated everything that words could not.

— —

I was dismissed from Arendelle Central Hospital on the morning of the next day—the third Sunday of the month—and carried off from the medical complex of course by the black CTV that was stationed on one of the building's helipads. I sat crammed in the backseat between Elsa and Anna, who were silent and creating a heavy air of tension, looking anywhere but at each other. I felt as if I were nothing more than an immobile buffer set between them, wrapped securely as I was in a brace for my shoulder, with gauze underneath for bruised ribs, and a variety of bandages all over my person tending to various nicks and bruises, all of which basically inhibited any movement whatsoever other than walking. Anna's bodyguard, a large man whose name I did not know, piloted the vehicle off of the roof, and set a course for the manor.

Hidden from everyone else's view, Elsa was still grasping my hand; she had let go when we came into the sight of others, but when no one was looking, I felt the cool and smooth sensation of her pale fingers returning to mine. I thought back to Syd's warning, the first one he had given when he told us about the cameras. Even if his words were part of some grand scheme of his, he was still right; a tryst would ultimately destroy her career, and with this most recent incident—which they were actually attributing to an electrical fire in the surveillance room combined with yet another gas leak—we were still inching closer to that potential fate anyway, in more ways than one.

We arrived without incident on the roof, and headed inside. I noticed Anna was still following us as we all entered the elevator. Elsa pressed the button for the second floor and glanced furtively at her sister when the redhead did not select a different floor. Anna was instead trying to smile at everything; the effort she was making was making it clear that something wasn't right; something was severely bothering her. Being ever the optimist, she was likely reminding herself that this was the most contact that she's ever had with her sister in a very long time.

Her bright beam of a smile swiveled around to shine on me, so clearly forced that it was almost cringe-worthy. "Feeling better?" she asked, anxiety pushing an oddly high rise in pitch into her otherwise genuine tone.

"Somewhat, I suppose," I replied honestly, "though with my current condition, it may be necessary for Elsa to continue being supervised by her temporary bodyguard." Anna frowned and cringed, clearly knowing something that I did not. I glanced suspiciously at Elsa, and saw her stiffen uncomfortably, leading me to frown as well. This did not bode well.

The elevator doors opened, and we all piled out, splitting off from Anna and her guard as she continued on past us down the high ceilinged hall with a bowed head, cast into the darkness of a silhouette as she and her companion approached the intersecting corridor where the morning rays shone in through the tall, glass windows. Elsa stopped at her bedroom door, and watched Anna as she disappeared around the corner.

"Is everything alright?" I asked from behind, startling Elsa, and causing her to spin around and look at me for a moment, before diverting her gaze.

"Everything's fine," she clipped, before settling into a tight-lipped grimace.

I cocked my head slightly, "Are you sure? You seem distracted."

She shook her head, "It's nothing."

I sighed, knowing by now that "nothing" was definitely  _not_ nothing.

"Elsa,"

She turned away with a groan, "Please don't say it like that, you sound like my father."

"Just tell me what's wrong."

She shook her head, and her hands clutched at her arms,"You're not going to be happy with me..."

'I'm kind of getting to that point already." My face was impassive, and I waited with folded arms.

She sighed futilely, still not meeting my gaze, and seemed to visibly sink."I didn't request a temporary bodyguard."

I groaned, frustrated again by her continued disregard for safety. "Elsa, requesting one is  _basic procedure_ , surely you're aware that-"

"I don't  _care_  about basic procedure, or  _protocol_ , or...or any of that!" she snapped. Her eyes looked up at me incredulously, "Have you not realized that by now?"

My hands rose as I began to gesticulate, "These methods were created to ensure your safety—and this particular bit is just common sense;  _I can't protect you from a hospital bed!_ "

"I can take care of myself!" she yelled. There was frost was everywhere now; I hadn't noticed it before. She caught my gaze and followed, before looking down again with a tightened jaw and wet eyes, ashamed of her lapse in control.

"Elsa, being able to defend yourself from an aggressor or an assassin with your powers is one thing, but fighting off the media and the public after exposing your abilities is another thing altogether! I know you remember Syd's words better than I do, as you weren't the one bleeding to death while suspended by a spear, and even  _I_  heard what he said. You're powerful, and he believed you to be dangerous, dangerous enough that he felt threatened and wanted to kill you. Who knows how many others like you are out there, or how many of them are trying to hunt you down? A thug in an alley wouldn't stand a chance against you, even if he had a gun, but we both know now that you don't stand a chance against those icemen by yourself. If I weren't there when he attacked you..." I trailed off, eyes dropping to my hands, where were held out before me, feeling completely and utterly conflicted as my desires fought against decorum.

I heard a sniffle, and when I looked back at her, I saw that she was in tears. Elsa wasn't a crybaby; I've seen men twice her size yell into her face at the top of their lungs when they came into her office, or shouted across the boardroom at her, and she would stare into their blazing, rancorous eyes with her own cold intensity as they raged, responding when the tirade was done with a voice as calm as water but as stern, solid, and unforgiving as ice. She would hardly bat an eye, never showing weakness, but now, she stood before me, leaning into me, clutching me as if I were a raft and an anchor as tears ran uninhibited down her face.

"I'm sorry..." she wept. Her voice was even less steady than it had been when I had first woken up after the incident, and she repeated those two words over and over again until I began to brush a hand across the top of her head, and she finally began to calm. Even after she had quieted, I still held her, and began to wonder if she was asleep.

She sniffled again, "I didn't think to find one because I never left the hospital," she admitted into my chest through the fabric, the flesh, and her tears.

I stepped back to look at her from an arm's length, my good hand resting on her right shoulder, "why would you..."

"I couldn't bring myself to leave," her hands clutched at her own chest as she stared at them with distant eyes.

I frowned, sympathetic but worried, "That...probably looked suspicious. Remember, we don't want anyone to think that we have anything...going on." The memories of our contact and tender moments in the past few days, including this one, returned to me, and I tensed with fear.

Elsa laughed slightly. "I don't think I really even care anymore," she said quietly, gaze still somewhere else. A small smile still graced her lips, "They can believe whatever they want, it doesn't matter to me what they think. Besides," she looked up, eyes still wet but not glistening with any new tears, "it's not entirely strange for a charge to feel close to their bodyguard."

Her eyes continued to look into mine, and a spark of something was moving back and forth between us; something was building. It began to snow again, and at that point I knew that she felt it too. I suddenly felt like I knew what to do, but at the same time, I also felt hesitation, rising and struggling against the pull and the urge. Was this really something I wanted to do? Was this a path that I was prepared and willing to go down? I wasn't sure. Even as I write this, I'm still not sure if I...want her like that.

She felt my apprehension, and the moment dissolved in an instant along with the snowfall. She instead tucked her blonde head back into my chest and embraced me, her small, thin arms wrapping around me as tightly as they could, and i returned it as best as I could with one arm. We would leave it like this, for now, until we could sort out what exactly it was that we were feeling toward each other, and what we would do about it. The snow was cold against my back, but from her, I suddenly felt an unprecedented warmth that swallowed me whole, and I hoped that I would never have to let go.


	9. Fear Is The Enemy

Elsa was on the fairway; her hands clasped before her in a default and deceptively demure pose as she waited alongside the edge of the field, next to me. She was clad once again in white golf gloves, along with a fitted durasynth t-shirt of the same color that had a horizontal cyan stripe halfway down. Black fitted track pants clung to the curves of her legs, and white tennis shoes covered her feet, highlighted with a pastel blue. She was also wearing her shades, a choice of apparel that was actually reasonable for once, as it was the middle of an absurdly bright afternoon on the third Sunday of July—still well within the blazing wrath of summer and its intense rays. Incidentally and oddly, it was also rather chilly outside.

Elsa was playing against Kai today, as she occasionally did, and watched as he swung the first hit of the ninth and last hole, a strong drive that landed him considerably close to the flag. On cue, everyone clapped dryly, and Elsa and I took our places at the black tee. Though the position of caddy was usually "awarded" to her least favorite or newest bodyguard, I was now the only one left, and expected to play the role. Due to my injury, however, Elsa saw fit to instead give the position to some random steward, a short and rotund man with a squashed nose and large front teeth, whose name I couldn't remember. Elsa selected her club from the bag that he carried, and went about the rest of her setup before getting into position.

She steadied, silently, lens covered eyes tracking between her hands and her goal, testing her swing, gaining a feel for the hit. At last, she was satisfied, pulled back, and swung with a swift and powerful swish of air. The white ball with its concave texture remained on its tiny pedestal. Elsa's lips, painted a solid, bright red that contrasted starkly—in a good way—with the light colors of her attire, tightened into a thin line of frustration and self-directed anger.

Again, she steadied, visibly irritated, and exhaled. She removed her shades and placed one of the temples in a pocket on her pants so that the rest hung from it. Her gloved hands then returned to the club, somewhat more confidently, and she again prepared to aim. I could now see her eyes as they filled with a focus that matched the intensity of the saturated hue of her irises, flipping between the club and the hole and nothing else, as if her task was the only thing that existed in the universe. She smirked slightly and fleetingly—it was gone in a flash, replaced with the impassive set of her scarlet mouth. She then pulled back, swung, and was granted the satisfying crack of an impact as the ball sailed high into the air. A sudden cold breeze blew through, and the ball seemed to ride it like an invisible wave, traveling farther down the open field, farther than seemed possible, to land and bounce before settling, marking her most impressive drive of all time; it was at least a full fifty meters further than she had ever been able to hit before. I frowned, skeptical as I partook in the weak and superficial applause without any heart. Elsa was smiling; It was slight, but undoubtedly a grin, and she, her entourage, and I began to approach the displaced golf balls.

I used the moment to find my way next to her. "A most excellent hit, Ma'am."

"Hm." Her spirits were considerably lighter, despite the detached response. Her masked elation was instead visible in her gait, which has a slight springiness to it that caused her bangs to bounce slightly as she walked.

"Your sudden and drastic increase in strength is most astounding as well," I added sarcastically.

Her shoulders stiffened.

"Is it just me or is it slightly chilly today?" I continued in the same, falsely offhanded tone, "I couldn't help but feel that cold breeze from before. An odd thing for the midst of July."

She held her chin up and still did not turn. "I suppose. Perhaps it is merely a cold front."

I sighed, growing tired of the strange wordplay, "using your powers like this isn't exactly sportsmanlike behavior, Ms. Elsa," I stated bluntly.

"As a woman, nothing that I do  _is_  sports _man_ like."

I rolled my eyes at the lexical jab, and she huffed, picking an invisible fleck of dust from her shirt, "Playing against your staff as they try their best to lose to you as a sign of respect and reverence is hardly fair either, so I don't quite see your point."

We both sighed, for different reasons, but oddly at the same time, and then shared curious glances at one another before looking away.

Elsa did not heed my grievance, and when she next hit the ball, a suspiciously convenient gust of wind swept it onto the green, where it bounced and settled less than a meter away from the hole. "I suppose it's my lucky day," she teased airily as she sauntered past me and pressed her club into my hands, her attitude putting more sway into her hips as she practically sashayed away from me while her opponent prepared for his turn. My eyes followed the blonde with a glare as I shoved the club at her caddy, making him jump.

We arrived at our positions at the side of the field, and my arms folded as best as they could with the sling. Elsa was still looking rather pleased with herself. She heard my sigh, and her chin lifted a fraction, "You seem troubled," she commented oh-so-very perceptively.

"And you know very well why," I retorted, hardly standing to look at her.

She spared me a sidelong glance, "Why is this such a big deal to you? It's just a stupid game, and I hate it enough as it is to not really care about playing properly. Besides, no one else seems to have noticed."

A thwack from up ahead led us to look up; Kai had swung, a decent hit that placed him not far behind Elsa's ball, but not on the green either. He handed his club off to his own caddy before stepping away from the field, and looked over his shoulder at Elsa with what appeared to be disapproval. She saw it, and tried her best to not acknowledge it, along with the blush that was creeping into her face. "...for the most part..."

"You're pushing it a bit far," I expressed, "One mistake with this and we could have yet another incident, and it hasn't even been a full week since the last one." Elsa shrugged as she brushed me off, and I frowned, "You know Kai's just going to tell you the same thing that I am."

"I don't think he would dare," Elsa interjected haughtily with a smile, "he fears me, just like the rest of the staff does. You're the only one who's bold—or stupid—enough to challenge me." With that comment, she stepped forward to finish the game.

She used the putter, of course, and stared at the ball with an intense gaze and pursed lips. There was no wind that could help her now; the scale of the situation was now too small. She didn't miss the ball this time, but it rolled past the hole to rest at about the same distance from it on the other side, and she swore under her breath. Kai finished on his next turn and waited alongside with the rest of us as Elsa took another three attempts to sink the ball.

Other than her tightly clenched hands, she didn't seem to react at all to her belated success; her face was completely impassive as she stared at the ball while it rattled and settled into the gray depression in the field. She was so still that she completely resembled a statue, sans her platinum-blonde hair as it whipped in the wake of a minute tempest. The group clapped mechanically and fell on deaf ears. Her caddy came up to collect her club and she handed it off to him before heading straight for the manor, stating a silent decree that she was done for the day, and we all followed her inside.

— —

Anna was sitting on a sofa by the door when we came in, and swiftly hopped up to her feet when she saw us, sending her pigtails airborne before she clutched her hands behind her back.

"Kristoffer- I mean Bjorgman, could I talk to you for a moment?" she looked up at me earnestly before looking over at Elsa, who, after glancing at us, nodded silently and walked away, no doubt off to her study to mope or drown herself in paperwork, which was akin to drinking liquor for a workaholic.

Anna exhaled audibly, her breath whipping her now somewhat long bangs as she stared down the hall. "Huh, I wasn't really sure if that was actually going to work!" She grinned. Her smile was similar to Elsa's but lacked her formal reservation; I suppose Anna never really needed it.

"What was it you wished to discuss, ma'am?"

"I said to call me Anna!"

"Sorry...Anna."

She smirked victoriously, and I was again almost floored by the similarities between the two sisters. They were nearly identical in appearance and even in spirit, except while Elsa was as cold as a Siberian winter, and as reclusively private as a hardened survivor of those frigid lands, Anna was like a blazing flame, bouncing between the warmth of a hearth with her kindness and compassion, and the scalding and sometimes explosive heat of an active volcano with her feisty temper—she even had the fiery red hair to match.

The smile faded as her blaze sizzled into embers, and she seemed unsure of how to begin. "...What...really happened to you?"

"What do you mean-"

"I-I'm not an  _idiot_ —despite what everyone thinks—and I  _know_  there's no way that was a  _gas leak_. It doesn't explain the hole in your shoulder or-or the complete lack of burns on anything near the 'explosion'-"

"Wait, you went to the crime scene?"

"Of  _course_  I went to the- wait,  _crime scene?!_ "

I looked around, afraid someone would hear, "I can't tell you. I've already said too much."

"Did Hans do this?"

I stiffened. "Why does that concern you?"

"He did, didn't he?" Her voice was wavering, quivering, yet the rest of her was shaking with anger.

"Believe me when I say this, you don't  _want_ to know what happened."

"But I  _do_ ," she retorted stubbornly and quietly, stamping her foot as she bit her lip. Her gaze had dropped, and her hands gripped at her elbows in a familiar gesture, "I know all of these events are related—these incidents. The cover stories are always lamer than the ones about aliens, and yet despite all the damage and destruction, Elsa is  _always_  fine, and it  _never_  adds up. She's always been hiding something, and I need to know why! I  _need_  to help her!"

"Stop digging, Anna. You can't be involved." I turned to leave, and she scoffed angrily from behind me. A hand tightly grasped my arm and pulled me back around with surprising strength, leaving me face-to-face with and inches from the most furious and intimidating five-foot woman I had ever laid eyes on.

"And why not? Aren't  _you_? She's my  _sister!_ "

With some difficulty, I yanked myself away from her firm grip, "stay out of this, Anna."

I stalked away, and she yelled after me, "I'm not yours to protect!"

I sighed, out of earshot. "So you think..."

— —

I awoke later that night drenched in my own sweat, the oddly cold moisture sticking to my skin and soaking uncomfortably into my bandages, which were already irritating enough when they were dry. My breath calmed, and I sat up, images from my fitful sleep still seared into my eyelids, replaying Anna's words as they overlaid the events from my most recent near-death experience. I've unfortunately had plenty of those over the years, especially during my time in combat, where I had seen, dealt, and been dealt my share of injuries, and watched everyone that I had ever become close to during that time be wrenched away by the curtain of death or by the force of shrapnel and lead, observing helplessly as they lay dying, covered in the blood of strangers along with their own, sometimes in my trembling arms, sometimes laying on the ground a distance away, and sometimes in a heap, in pieces, or still just half-alive.

Those were the worst, the ones where you could still fool yourself into thinking that they still had a chance, filled with a type of pain and grief that was all full of could-have-beens and should-have-knowns, but even after all of that suffering, all of that trauma, and all of that loss, none of it was as nerve-wracking as the events that happened on the fourth floor of Arendelle manor only days ago. Perhaps it was just from the shock of being impaled on a wall by a giant, magical spear of ice summoned by an egotistical ginger warlock, or perhaps it was because that javelin had rendered me helpless while the thread of Elsa's life was about to be cut, millimeters away from being severed by the jagged dagger of the Fates. Even then, it wasn't too different in retrospect; I've had my share of blinding pain and suffering, and I've been helpless like that before, yet it all felt so bizarre this time. I have in the past awoken from countless nightmares, covered in my sweat as I was now, and trembling with fear, but never with wet tears streaming down my face.

I didn't notice them at first, but after a few blinks, I began to distinguish the moisture from the perspiration that was across the rest of my face, and could feel it in my eyes. I hadn't cried in years, not once since my parents had died, and it's been over two decades since then. Why now? What was different this time?

Unable to answer the looming questions, I elected to go for a walk about the manor, planning to clear my head so that I could eventually go back to sleep, and hoping that this late-night venture wouldn't be nearly as eventful as the last one.

I ultimately found myself on the roof, looking out at the darkened landscape, which was spared from being pitch black by the light of a nearly full moon. In the lunar glow, I could see the rise and fall of the tree-blanketed land that slowly rose up at a steady incline behind the estate, swaying in the breeze of a gentle wind. Along the sides, the terrain flattened out into plains and softer hills, and at the front, a solitary, single-lane road curved its way into the distance, and penetrated the unknown darkness.

I heard the shuffling sound of the automatic door from behind me and turned sharply, relaxing when I saw who it was. "Kai."

He nodded as he approached, hands shoved that he was wearing over simple, gray pajamas. I noted oddly that I was still wearing my now-wrinkled suit, and that Kai seemed particularly alert—assertive even—if such a thing could actually be conveyed by one's countenance.

"Looking for some fresh air too?" I asked conversationally.

The senior staff member shrugged, "On some level, I suppose, though I mainly wanted to speak with you. There's something important that we need to discuss." That would mark the first time he's ever wanted to do that with me. To top it off, we had already exchanged more words in the past thirty seconds than we ever had over the entire course of my employment here in Elsa's service. I could feel a sense of foreboding settle into my bones as Kai took a deep breath and exhaled, "the events of this past Wednesday-"

"It wasn't actually a gas leak, I know."

Kai's eyes widened, "She...told you?"

I half shrugged, "Not exactly; I was in the room back when she...when Sven died."

Kai appeared to be in the midst of utter shock and was pitched forward slightly, staring at the ground with his eyebrows raised and his mouth still open. "You've known everything all this time...she never told me that."

"Not surprising," I replied with a knowing smile.

He returned it with a nod before shaking his head, "It had been many years before she ever confided the truth in me, and you haven't even been here for six months!" Kai laughed, but after a moment, his expression sobered, and his feet shifted anxiously. "Though, as it turns out, this wasn't exactly what I was originally going to tell you." He looked up and met my intrigued gaze, "Syd wasn't the only one. There are more coming."

"What?!"

I had already known that this was a likely possibility, but I still couldn't stop myself from freaking out a little; receiving confirmation of something often hurts just as much as the fear of it. My mind was flooded with a tsunami of questions, the waters rushing out from a dam that had been burst and shattered by the dynamite that was his revelation.

"How many? Who? How much time do we have? Are they-"

"Bjorgman, please, just calm down."

My breath was heavy, blasting through my nostrils as I tried to reign in the panic and the fear, the fear that was my enemy, the fear that haunted me at night in my dreams just to remind me of its presence. I could not let it control me; the odds of the coming conflict were going to be terrible and against us, no matter what other details Kai was going to have. I could not afford to let myself do something stupid.

I could tell Kai was not looking forward to telling me the rest as his lips pursed and his eyes flicked about. "Syd was working with an agency that is dedicated to dealing with supernatural entities. They've been taking note of everything that's been going on and...it seems they've now deemed that Elsa is too potentially dangerous to be kept alive. Syd's transgressions against us and Elsa were confirmation of that decision." He met my gaze for a flash, "I've decided to inform you of everything now, as you are the only thing that can stand between Ms. Elsa and this threat. We can't hire any assistant personal without risking further infiltration from  _them_ , and Syd has already sabotaged much of our already inferior intelligence network."

"Intelligence network?" I questioned incredulously, "Just how long has all this been going on for?"

Kai sighed, "The Arendelle family has a very...unique history, one that has crossed paths multiple times with the world that hides behind the veil of what is believed to be true and possible, more commonly known as the realm of the supernatural." Kai cleared his throat. "The network and our efforts began during her father's time, borne out of the rising concern he held for Ms. Elsa after an incident that occurred between her and Miss Anna—the first incident, I suppose."

"Does Elsa know about  _any_  of this?"

Kai shook his head and I groaned. He waved his hands helplessly, "It was her father's wish! And she never—if she were to ask me about it, I would be obligated to tell her, of course, but I..." He deflated, "but that hardly matters now. We have much more pressing issues to focus on besides the past." He backed away and beckoned with a hand, "Come with me, you're going to meet your team."

I followed Kai with a mix of apprehension and curiosity as he took us down via one of the manor's many staircases, through several halls, into the empty kitchens, which lit up automatically under the direction of motion sensor lights, and into a storage cupboard near the back with walls of brick and mortar that were mostly covered with shelves of ingredients. He pressed on one of the reddish blocks of baked clay on the only blank section of the wall, and I frowned curiously as the surface shifted and moved to the right like a cheap gimmick straight out of an old spy movie. "This feels as cliche as a James Bond film," I commented dryly.

Kai shrugged admittedly, "You go with what works, I guess."

The interior was much more modest and underwhelming than what my mind had been dreading and expecting; there was no massive underground complex, no weapon or gadget testing centers or huge supercomputers, just a dark, hot, low-ceilinged, and somewhat smelly room containing about thirty desks and multi-monitored computers, all armed with very casually dressed staff; half of them were shirtless, and the other half were women. The only light came from the scattered lamps and computer screens, and a few large and well-used whiteboards were set up around the room along with a beat-up green couch that was pushed up against a wall and looked like it originated in one of the parlors upstairs. Flat, plastic surfaces, laid out for the office chairs, covered the concrete floor. Countless wires crisscrossed everywhere; some taped securely to the ground while others were strewn about loosely like hunting snares, just waiting for someone to trip over them.

A short man with straw-like hair, big ears, bushy eyebrows, and a stony and lightly stubbled face that still somehow managed to appear gentle, seemed to emerge directly out from the shadows of the room and onto the section of ground that lay right at the base of the small set of wire mesh stairs that Kai and I stood at the top of. Kai's eyes lit up a little when he saw him, "Ah! Bjorgman, this is Pablo Terran, the head of our operations here. Most of us here call him Pabbie; don't ask me why."

Pabbie laughed heartily, "I wouldn't tell him even if he did!" He turned to me and shook my hand with a rock-solid grip, his broad grin having reduced to a more formal smile, "It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Mr. Bjorgman." He gestured with a hand to the room behind him with a chuckle, "Welcome to the resistance, I guess." A few heads looked up at us, blinking and staring with curious eyes before returning to their brightly lit screens.

"This is everyone?" I asked.

He shrugged, "For the most part; we have a few others who manage certain other affairs elsewhere, but that's about it. We'll be providing you with whatever support we can, watching from afar like Mr. Syd was  _supposed_  to be doing."

I looked around at the room again, feeling grateful, "Thank you. It's good to know that I won't be entirely blind during all of this."

Pabbie nodded, "It's not an excuse for you to ever let down your guard, but it should help you maintain your sanity, for a little while longer at least." He shrugged, "the head can be persuaded with a little hope."

We shared a slight smile, and I noticed one of the boards in the back more closely, identifying a set of names in red and green listed on the side. The words "Winter's Guardians" were written in large, blue, block lettering across most of the rest of the white plane and decorated with a variety of multicolored doodles. It was the list of names, however, that demanded the most attention. Pabbie's gaze followed mine, "Ah, that would be the list of suspects. Ideally it would be best if you were to remain with Elsa at all times, but eliminating these targets is also a priority; it would be the proactive thing to do, and would eliminate a lot of the unknowns."

"Unknowns? Are you saying that you haven't actually confirmed that those people are involved?"

"Well..." he squinted and waved his hands a little, "Yes. Though if they are, you'll likely figure it out rather quickly when you go to...you know..." He trailed off with a shrug, and I said nothing, instead looking back at the list of names. There were currently twelve listed, with a few of them crossed out. Only one of them stood out—and there was no way that it couldn't.

Hans M. Syd.

"He's still alive?" My irate voice was full of the cold, frozen steel that I had often heard from Elsa. Suddenly all the misgivings and hesitation that I had felt towards Pabbie's "proactive" alternative strategy faded into oblivion, replaced instead with a powerful drive and a perhaps unhealthy lust for vengeance.

The two men shared a glance, and Kai replied, "Most likely. He's been through rougher scrapes than this if you can believe it. He's not human."

My uninjured hand went absently to my shoulder. "I know. I know what he is." With a strengthened sense of purpose, I turned to Kai, "Call me at once if you learn anything about Syd."

Kai peered at me carefully as he nodded, "or anything else that we find about the agency?"

"Of course," I replied quickly, the response sounding embarrassingly like an afterthought. I shook Pabbie's hand again before leaving the darkened room with their eyes on me. I tried to ignore them, and with my newfound resolve boiling in my veins, it was easier to do than I thought. I entered the cupboard, and braved the uncomfortable sensation of the mixed smells that took place between the sweaty odor of the dark chamber and the spiced scent of the kitchen, which seemed to have soaked into the very structure of the room itself. Upon hearing the sound of something grinding, I turned around and watched with bemused fascination as the brick wall slid back into place on its own accord and sealed, appearing entirely inconspicuous.

Though I did not approve of the team's decision to keep Elsa in the dark over a matter regarding her own safety, I knew the knowledge would have only made her life much more stressful than it already was. On the other hand, secrets seem to have brought her nothing but pain in the past. The only other solution I could think of was to selectively relay the news to her under the guise of a new lie, fabricating what I was told so that it appeared to be my own research and intel. I couldn't banish the feeling that it would eventually backfire in some way though.

As I returned to the dark and carpeted halls, I cursed to myself as I realized that I was now even more awake and alert than I had been before. I really needed to find an alternative way to deal with my nightmares.

— —

The next few days fell back into their usual daily patterns, alternating between work, sleep, and training, which was all the more necessary with the threat that the icemen presented. Elsa's prowess was progressing rapidly, like a muscle finally being excercised after a lifetime of infrequent use. Her control, in contrast, was regressing. Whethr it was a result of the increased strain brought by her expanding power, or that borne out of her stress surrounding the coming merger, I wasn't sure. Other than that, the days were merely a repetitive cycle of scheduled events that were far too mundane and individually inconsequential to bother speaking or writing about in any detail, and before either of us knew or expected it, the day of the merger was upon us. It was the day of reckoning, and unknowingly, the first one of what I now believe will be very many more to come.

Elsa was late this morning, a first and a surprise, but nonetheless understandable under the current circumstances. I knocked on her door, and the sound echoed down the cold hallway as I shivered. "Ms. Elsa?"

Outside, it was snowing passively, the frozen powder collecting on the panes and the base of the tall windows in the adjacent hall that lay along an exterior edge of the building—the north, if I wasn't mistaken. The wintry precipitation stirred, and if my eyes weren't fooling me, it seemed to have reacted to my words.

The handle of Elsa's door turned sharply, harshly, and after a pause, the door slowly opened, revealing deadened, bloodshot, and dark-rimmed eyes. A translucent white-blonde tumbleweed of hair piled atop Elsa's head and tumbled down her shoulders, appearing to glow in the light of the morning sun as it shone in through the large window behind her. Her pale lips were chapped, and her now lake-blue eyes bored into mine with unsettling and unregulated intensity. She looked utterly miserable.

"Morning," she croaked. Her voice was monotonous and about as lively as her face.

"Good morning. Is everything alright? It's not like you to wake up so late—by your standards anyway."

"I didn't. I've-" she yawned, trying to cover her mouth with a still manicured hand, "I've been up for hours..." She frowned as her eyes drifted slightly, like books slipping on a shelf. "...28 hours? Or was it..."

I sighed and knew I had been a fool to expect anything different. The merger was today at last—or unfortunately, depending on how you looked at it—and the general stress of the event, combined with Syd's warnings, which felt weird to still adhere to after his betrayal and almost successful attempt at first degree murder, would have kept anyone miles away from the embrace of sleep.

Elsa's lazy eyes pitched up at my face and seemed to overshoot their target before trying to focus back on it. "You don't appear to have fared much better, either," she mumbled as she observed.

I shrugged as my confession, "I'll admit it wasn't exactly a good night's rest, but I'm quite sure it was better than your experience." I hadn't been able to sleep well at all over the past few days, perturbed by more nightmares and waking each time with more sweat and tears. I hadn't realized the fatigue left over after my most recent measly few hours of rest was that obvious, but even so, I at least felt awake, which was more than what seemed to be the case for Elsa.

Her arms gripped at each other, a gesture that I was beginning to attribute to anxiety, as she sighed and studied her feet, which were clad in snowman slippers. With a sudden petulant groan, she turned away and tried to escape back into her room, making a beeline for the unmade bed.

"Oh no you don't!" I reached out, grabbed her by the elbow, and pulled her back to me, noting how surprisingly light she actually was. She scrunched her eyes closed and looked ready to start bawling like the small child she was imitating as I tugged her back to the door.

Her hands flew to her hips, dropping into the stance so roughly that she basically slapped her sides while her reddening face pouted. "You know you can't really stop me."

Knowing that she was right, I released her with a resigned grunt, and she turned around, peeved, to enter her room and get ready, presumably. "Good luck today," I said to her as she was closing the door, and she stuck her head back out to smile sleepily at me, lingering for a moment as she forgot herself. Her eyes subsequently flicked down as she returned to reality, and she closed the door softly. I heard her groan at something through the wooden barrier and settled in at my post beside it, awaiting my charge's eventual return.

The door opened about half an hour later, and out stepped a more refined, dignified, and seemingly awake woman who was almost entirely unrecognizable as the disheveled, yet slightly adorable, drowsy girl from before. Her hair was tamed into her usual bun and bangs combo, and she was dressed in a shortened navy blue suit jacket over a white formal blouse with a modest pattern about the collar, along with slacks as pale as tundra and her ice-blue heels. Her makeup was done, and managed to hide her fatigue while also making her appear much more intimidating, with sharp red lips and dark, purple shadows around the eyes that made her crystal blues stand out even more. I even felt a frigid shiver roll down my spine when she looked over at me with that deep, cold gaze of hers before I saw the rest of her face and its expression of consternation and worry, which broke the whole facade and allowed it to actually be viewed as such.

"How is it?" she asked in a soft tone, musically graceful as always, but now much more calm and tranquil, like a little brook in the forest as opposed to the vast expanse of the sea, sometimes just as breathtaking, but with much less daunting imagery.

"Why are you asking me?" I questioned lightly, confused by her unprecedented desire for my approval. She was rendered at a loss for words by my inquiry, but I accepted it as a response nonetheless. "If you're trying to intimidate them, you're on the right track, but perhaps go all white with the wardrobe."

She frowned, "Wouldn't that seem too light though?"

"With your hair and your icy demeanor, it'll work great; I've seen you pull it off before." She was glaring at me incredulously. "What?"

"Icy? Really?"

I was somewhat perplexed, "There was no pun intended, if that's what you're upset about."

She sighed and looked on to other issues, ignoring whatever my infraction was. "So no specific details?" She searched my eyes, clearly quite eager for an answer.

I gave her an odd look, "No...why?"

She shrugged, "It just makes it easier, I guess; there's less ambiguity."

"I trust your judgment."

She scoffed with a skeptical laugh, "No you don't."

"I trust it well enough with this sort of thing—more than my own really—which was partly why I was surprised that you even asked me."

She began to huddle in on herself and shrugged, "Who else would I ask?" The words sank in for a moment before she continued, "It feels nice being able to get an outside opinion on something; I can go out for once without always worrying that it'll all fail miserably. I already have enough to worry about as it is, and I didn't want to add my clothes to the list."

"Whichever one you choose will be fine. That's my outside opinion." I smiled, and she returned it. I shooed her back into her room, "Now hurry up, we've wasted enough time as it is, and today is probably the worst time for you to be late."

"Yes sir," she mocked, closing the door after herself with an amused smile.

— —

Soon after, we stood on the windy rooftop, preparing to board the CTV, per usual, though the minutes and seconds now dragged on, and when you stopped paying attention for a moment, you came back to awareness in horror after realizing how much time slipped past you. Elsa's posture re-stiffened at every small milestone in her commute, likely resulting from this stressful phenomenon, and while we rode in the back seat, I found her hand tightly gripping mine. The occurrence had become routine, as she has repeatedly sought my hand every day since I had returned from the hospital, but the novelty of the sensation and its effect on me refused to fade.

I had noted that she had taken my suggestion from earlier and switched to an all white ensemble, other than the heels, of course. We passed by a peculiar shaped cloud that vaguely resembled a sled, and Elsa's head fell onto my shoulder. I appreciated the contact at first, but then remembered her sleep-deprived state.

"Wake up, Elsa."

She jerked, "I wasn't sleeping."

I smirked and looked away, "Sure you weren't."

She grunted noncommittally and sat up. "I want my coffee today. I need it."

"For once, I actually agree with you in that regard."

She rubbed at her eyes while trying to pretend not to, "I wish I had attempted to meet with the executives from South Isles beforehand; I'm going in blind."

"You'll be fine, Elsa."

Her expression clouded. "You don't think that Syd's brothers share his...abilities, do you?

"No; he seemed to be the black sheep of the family. Even if they do, I will not allow them to do you any harm, even at the cost of my own life."

She looked away, "That doesn't really make me feel any better."

I sighed, looking at her for a moment. She was incredibly sensitive and resistant to the idea that her life was more important than mine, and it was about time that this was addressed. "You do realize that I took this job willingly, don't you? And that, should I feel inclined, I could just quit, and you'd never see me again? I am here because I  _want_  to be here, Elsa. I took this job because I  _want_  to protect you. There's no reason for you to feel guilty; you haven't imposed anything on me-"

"Are you kidding me? I've thrust you into a world that  _neither_  of us understand! You could end up getting yourself killed over something that isn't your fault!" She dabbed at her eyes, "Just...stop. Please."

"Elsa, we need to-"

"I said  _stop!_ " The car shook with the strength and frost in Elsa's voice as the cabin cooled dramatically. I heard a click from the front before feeling the air conditioning kick into overdrive as the chauffeur maxed out the heater. Elsa took a deep breath, but it did little to suppress the wavering tone in her voice, "If I start crying, I'm going to fuck up my makeup, and there isn't time to fix it." She sniffled defiantly, "Just leave it."

"Yes ma'am." I conceded, not nearly finished as we flew off towards headquarters and the fate that awaited us there.


	10. Going In Blind

We arrived atop the Frost Industries HQ with so few minutes left to spare that they could all be counted on a single hand. Elsa's translucent cyan heels clacked down against the concrete roof of the building the moment the CTV made contact with the ground, and she stepped out before reforming her professional and unfeeling facade like a mage casting a protective ward as I came around to join her, doing the same. We entered via the roof access suite, took the elevator down to her floor, and strode down the tiled hall to step through the frosted glass doors that led into the main conference room.

It was a sunlit expanse, with a floor of standard, short, uniform, dark gray carpet and dominated by a large, granite table of a lighter shade, surrounded by about twenty cushioned, ergonomic, high-quality swivel chairs made of black leather and other synthetic materials. A somewhat grander-looking white one stood at the unmistakable head of the table. On the wall across from it was a presentation space with a projector screen, a whiteboard, and a podium, which was strangely unoccupied. In fact, the entire rest of the room was empty, completely devoid of any life except for my charge and me. Elsa's brows furrowed as she stepped further into the room, her puzzlement instead resembling callousness and anger with her mask on.

"Where is everyone?" she snapped, casting her eyes about the space before drawing her BlackBerry from her pocket, keychain clinking and swaying as she checked the time before glaring around again and fuming.

"They've rescheduled," a voice replied, causing else to flinch in barely masked surprise. We both whipped around at where it had come from and were met by the rather unpleasant sight of the extremely gaunt and purple-clad Yzma Peruv, one of the directors from the board. She had not aged well in the slightest, and quite frankly would be best described as scary beyond belief. Deep wrinkles and pale skin that, unlike Elsa's bright and muted tone, was grayish and almost sickly looking.

Elsa's face wrinkled, likely with either irritation or disgust, but probably both. "For when? And why wasn't I informed?"

Yzma did not answer her, instead pretending to not have heard her with an air of disregard.

" _Yzma,_ " Elsa hissed in warning.

"Don't think you can play the intimidation card with me,  _child._ " Elsa flinched from the venom carried in the elder's voice, "I had respected your father as a businessman, but he was always a sentimental fool. His decision to place an inexperienced and incompetent young  _girl_  in charge of this corporation is proof of that, and I have nothing to fear from  _children_."

Elsa glared with hostility at her bony-faced superior, stepping up to her and towering over her in her heels, "I have been trained for this position ever since I could speak, and unless your aged memory has forgotten–which wouldn't surprise me—why don't you tell me how much the revenue of  _my_ company has increased since I took over?"

Yzma looked away, jaw tightening with the hardness of steel, "over 150 percent," she grumbled reluctantly with a whip-like tongue.

"A 150 percent  _increase_ ," Elsa emphasized, her eyes narrowing as she leered down at the old woman with a raised chin, commanding a regal authority with her demeanor. "For someone in your position, you are being extremely ungrateful, treating me like I'm trash when  _I'm_  the best thing that's ever happened to Frost. Your board may own the shares, but  _I'm_ the one running this company, and  _I'm_  doing it better than any of you ever could."

Yzma closed her eyes and sighed with pursed lips, "You have a lot to learn, child, and there's no one who can teach you but yourself. An empire built upon threats and fear will never last."

"You're one to talk. Don't think I'm unaware of your  _exploits_  in Peru," Elsa retorted sharply, extracting a glare from haggard woman.

"Those  _exploits_ are exactly how I  _learned_  that hard truth." Yzma began to mutter some inaudible nonsense about cats and llamas. Perhaps she actually  _was_  going senile.

Elsa ignored her and changed the subject. "Where is the entourage from South Isles?"

Yzma huffed, "If you were able to keep on top of things, you would know."

"I can't know details that are being  _intentionally_   _withheld_  from me out of  _spite_  by your crotchety group of shareholders. Trying to shame me for something everyone knows isn't my fault only makes  _you_  the fool."

Purple irises boiled with an unearthly sense of distaste and fury as she relented, casting her sharp gaze away in disdain, "They've rescheduled for after lunch. 1 PM. Don't ask me why." She turned on her heel and walked away without a word, and Elsa huffed in annoyance.

After Yzma's slightly hunched form, which sported ridgelike vertebrae with concerning prominence, retreated fully out of sight, Elsa unsheathed her BlackBerry from her pocket like a dagger, and practically mashed her fingers all over the miniscule keypad to log the changes to her schedule as she began to tread toward her office, head down as she lithely weaved between the few employees that she passed.

"Well, that was...interesting," I began as we walked, remarking on the somewhat worrisome interchange that had passed between the two dominant women.

"Don't you even start," Elsa growled, eyes still glued to her screen.

After a few moments, she finished making her edits, returned the device to her pocket, glanced furtively at my arm, and then up at my face, all without breaking her stride. "I need a PA."

"Are you sure?" I asked, at first surprised that she would be willing to pass off more work to an assistant, but also worried as I was reminded of the reasoning behind Kai's aversion to hiring any more personnel that would have access to Elsa. "I can easily manage everything on my own," I justified, hoping I didn't sound as desperate as I could feel myself becoming.

"Not with one arm, you can't." She frowned suddenly, and stopped walking to look me fully in the eyes, "Why are you suddenly so averse to the idea anyway? It's less work for you, and you got all up in a fuss about me refusing a temporary bodyguard before, so what's different now?"

I scrambled for an excuse to conceal my reasons. "But you...I..."

She sighed and starting walking again, hands clasped before her, "Look, if you're still feeling paranoid about the Syd fiasco-"

"Are you insinuating that you're  _not_?" I interjected, somewhat alarmed.

She spun on a heel, walking backward with splayed hands, "I'll screen them myself, alright? And you can run whatever background checks or scans you feel like doing to keep everything as 'secure' as your little heart desires." She turned back around and studied the white tiled floor as it passed beneath her feet. "Please don't get the wrong idea; I'm still pretty shaken up about the whole thing too, but what are the chances of us having two bad eggs in a row?"

"You're willing to entrust your safety to  _chance,_  and yet you're offended by my desire to protect you?"

Elsa had reached her door and her hand stopped halfway to the handle, "Offended?" She whipped around, and the anger that was at first blazing in her eyes now faded. "That's not..." She bit her lip, looked around, saw that the hallway was empty, and dragged me behind her into her office, closing the door behind us.

She released me when we were inside, and we glared at each other with stony expressions and folded arms. She was the first to break the silence, "Let me first make this clear: I do  _not_  have a problem with you protecting me."

"But you-" She stopped me with a hand.

"What I  _do_  have a problem with is the fact that you think so little of your own life that you would willingly throw it away for the sake of the person who endangered it in the first place!"

"That's not true."

"Is it?" she challenged.

"Your powers are not a curse, and our predicament is not your fault. You haven't done anything to endanger us."

"I'm endangering us by  _existing_ —I'm endangering everyone! I still can't-" she violently slapped at her shoulder, brushing off the accumulating sleet. "I still can't  _control_  this." Her voice trailed off weakly as she curled in on herself, "Do you know how many of these incidents there have been over the years?  _49_. I've kept count. 49 mistakes, starting from..." her breath rattled as she tried to take a deep breath, but even after, she was still unable to finish that sentence. Luckily, she didn't need to.

I straightened, hoping to put it all behind us, where it belonged, "Would you like your coffee, Elsa?"

"...Yes."

I nodded, opened the door, and looked back at her sadly as she slowly retreated to her desk and sat down, staring off into nothingness, ignoring the snowfall around her.

"I'll be alright, Kristoff," she reassuring without turning and laid her head and arms on the desk, "just don't take too long."

"Yes, Ma'am."

— —

The bell tinkled as I passed through the wooden, glass-paned door, announcing my presence to all of the occupants of the small, quaint coffee shop like unwarranted fanfare, leading them all to glance up in my direction. It was always a rare sight to see actual customers at the Trading Post, and as chance would have it, a few were actually there currently. Even rarer than that, however, was the chance of finding someone else working the counter besides Oaken, his husband, or occasionally Olaf. The woman behind the counter was standing with her back to the register and me. She wore a forest green apron that was tied at the back and over her pink, long-sleeved blouse along with a pair of maroon jeans. The most striking thing about her though wasn't her slightly odd attire, but her hair, which was literally the color of pure gold and reached down at least past her hips. It likely went on for even longer, but the mystery of its full extent was hidden behind the wooden counter. The young woman glanced back at me when she heard the bell, and her bright, leaf-green eyes, which were still warm and curious despite the strain no doubt caused by her forced customer-friendly cheer, locked onto mine before she sprung into action, turning back to the counter to face me while trying to appear as attentive as possible. She was obviously new here.

"Hoo-hoo! Welcome to Oaken's!" she cried, cringing slightly.

I tried to ignore the embarrassingly awkward display as I approached, partly for her sake, but also because I was still wearing my mask; it felt more comfortable to always leave it on these days, especially now that Elsa was at the top of some supernatural mafia's hit list. The cashier's gaze pitched upward at me apprehensively as I neared, for she wasn't very tall and was cast in my shadow. "How may I help you, sir?"

"Tall mocha latte, two cream and three sugars."

Her brows furrowed suspiciously, as if she had been expecting me to order it straight black or something, but her eyes flicked slightly to my left and she pursed her lips thoughtfully as she nodded, likely noticing my earpiece and deducing that I was a bodyguard. I still often wonder why I still wear the stupid thing, as I've never used it, and Elsa has rarely ever attempted to contact me or her other guards remotely, but in the few instances that she did, she always texted instead.

I caught the employee's name on the nameplate pinned to one of the straps of her apron, styled as a weathered piece of dark wood, much like the store's logo. It read 'Rapunzel C.' Something felt familiar about the name though I could not place the reason why. She turned away and began to prepare the drink as I approached the nearest seat, pulled it out, and sat down. There was a noticeable arc of scuff marks on the floor below it, likely made after years of countless patrons doing the same thing. I continued to try and remember where I had heard the golden-haired woman's name before, or perhaps where I had seen it in writing. A small voice in the back of my mind kept me from asking her when I later stood to receive and pay for my order. She bid that I have a good day, and I nodded silently before leaving and making my way back to Frost.

— —

I was overcome by one of my natural urges during transit, and took a detour after the elevator ride to Elsa's floor in order to proceed swiftly to the nearest restroom so that I could relieve myself.

I came in, placed the coffee by the sinks, and used the urinal closest to the door. Another man entered shortly after me, but I didn't notice much about him other than that he had dark hair; staring at other men in the restroom felt weird for a variety of reasons. He walked over and stood at the urinal directly next to mine despite having at least six other options to choose from. I refused to acknowledge his presence, even as he looked over at me and smirked with a crooked smile. I finished quickly, and after washing my hands, retrieved the still steaming cup and prepared to leave, but the man then spoke in an oddly soothing voice, "Are you really in that big of a hurry to leave?" It stopped me in my tracks.

_No_ , I thought incredulously, as if it was the most obvious question in the world.  _Wait, why no? Why would-_

He was staring at me with this strange smoldering gaze that was impossible to look away from. It wanted me to stay, implored me to give him more of my time, but the voice within me yelled for me to run, to get the hell out of there and never look back. I frowned, took a step away from him, and the trance then fell apart, shattering like glass. The man's expression dropped into a pout, and he sighed, a few fingers touched to his forehead in a dramatic pose, "Well, this is disappointing...the  _smolder_  has never failed me before—other than that one time, of course," he shrugged loftily and continued to monologue to himself with a cocky smile, "Ah well, at least I had the foresight to lock the door."

_No..._

I grabbed for the handle, but it didn't budge, and he laughed, "You couldn't even take my word for it? Wow! You really deflected that, didn't you? Well, let's see how well you fare against the full brunt of it!" His face settled back into that weird, leering gaze, but I was ready this time, steeling myself further with my mask, and I could see him for what he really was. He honestly looked kind of silly, standing there with squinted eyes, bunched-up brows, and half puckered lips.

I drew my silenced handgun from the holster hidden within my suit jacket, ignoring the pain in my shoulder as I gripped it with my injured arm and aimed it from the hip. I was confident in my accuracy, and positioned the barrel so that it pointed at the sweet spot that lay neatly between his eyes, which widened with fear into massive discs as he raised his hands above his head. "Woah, woah, okay! Take it easy, blondie, there's no need for the deadly noisemaker..." He cocked his head and leered, "because you'll never be able to hit me with it!"

He lurched to the side sharply, and I fired, startled. The bullet instantly tore through the stalls behind him and cracked a toilet somewhere. I tried to turn and follow him, but being in close quarters, and handicapped by my sling, which forced me to rotate my whole body as I turned, I couldn't keep up. He laughed as he circled me, drawing closer. I saw the glinting flash of metal in his hand before it rapidly approached me and brought my uninjured and unarmed fist down on it, breaking his grip and pitching him forward. His startled face was now close enough, allowing me to pistol-whip him with my other hand and send a gout of blood and spittle up into the air and the rest of his body down to the ground. The switchblade that he had held skittered away on the smelly, pale blue tiles, and he dropped down hard on more of them with a dull thud and a groan. I wasted no time pinning him down, and pressed the barrel of my gun to his temple.

He trembled from beneath me, and half-cried, half-shrieked, "Who are you?!"

"Shouldn't I be asking  _you_  that, face man?"

"Fuck you!"

I repositioned so that his arms were secured beneath my knee as I tried to draw handcuffs from another compartment within the jacket with my uninjured arm, a recent addition to my arsenal that I first considered after being debriefed by Kei and Pabbie, and secured my attacker with them.

"Who sent you?" I inquired, "Are you after Elsa?"

"Why should you care? Why should I tell you?"

"Because I'm her bodyguard."

His white eyes looked ready to completely fall right out of his skull as he whimpered, "Oh shit..." He screwed his lids shut and dropped his head to the floor in defeat, "I'm sorry- I'm so sorry! Please just let me go! Don't kill me! I'm just a cog in the machine—I-I don't-"

I sighed, annoyed and partly bewildered by his sharp change in demeanor, but letting up for even a fraction of a second proved to be my worst mistake that day.

He immediately took advantage of my lack of focus, whipped his shackled arms up, and diverted my gun away from his head before he began to struggle out from beneath me. I was stronger than him, but he had already gotten out and headbutted me to the ground. I was slammed onto my back, and my shoulder flared with pain as if the floor was made of roiling, boiling magma instead of cold ceramic tile. The room appeared to be swimming, and the man was trying to awkwardly grab my gun with his cuffed hands from where it had fallen.

I swept my legs out and managed to trip him, knocking him onto his back, and giving me time to sit up. He recovered just as quickly and reached across me as he lunged for the pistol again, forcing me to kick it away from us both. He cursed and I kneed him in the chin with the leg that was directly under it. He swore even more colorfully through blood, spit, and a bitten tongue, and tried to tackle me as I stood, but failed, instead only managing to hug my legs and make me stumble a bit. I bent down, digging deep into the pressure point in his shoulder, causing him to cry out and sink fully to the ground. I kicked him off of me, sending him onto his back ina daze and straddled him before delivering a swift, efficient, and final blow to the side of his head, knocking him unconscious.

I stared down at his slack-jawed face, catching my breath as beads of sweat dripped down my face from my exertion. I smelled strongly of copper and opened my jacket to find the white shirt underneath soaked thoroughly with crimson from the blood of a reopened wound.

"Damnit..."

I straightened with some difficulty, retrieved my gun, and confiscated his knife before securing one of his handcuffs to a stall. Satisfied, I washed my hands, picked up Elsa's coffee, and opened the door—suddenly remembering that it was supposedly locked—before glancing back curiously at the unconscious and empowered fool who lay sprawled on the bathroom floor. I guess I hadn't deflected his "smolder" as well as we'd both thought.

— —

Elsa sleepily bid me enter her office after I knocked, and I found her bent over a tablet and trying to inconspicuously rub at her eyes. I placed the beverage by her, and she inhaled its scent deeply before reaching out for it, stopping short once her hand closed around the cup. "Why is this cold?" she snapped with an irritated frown. Her gaze rose, and the hostility vanished as she noticed my disheveled appearance and pained expression. "...Are you alright?"

"I agree with your earlier sentiment."

"What?"

"You  _do_ need a PA."

She was thrown for a moment but shook it off and came around the desk to examine me, worried hands hovering hesitantly over me, "that's not..." she gave in, and a cold palm with cool fingers skated across the ridged and swollen knuckles of my bruised hand, "What happened to you?" Her other hand went to my chest and she traced over the fabric of my jacket and the terrain formed by my abs, pausing when she felt the crusty stiffness. With trembling hands, she hastily unbuttoned and nearly tore off the garment, letting it flutter unceremoniously to the floor. When she finally saw what had lain beneath the jacket, she looked as if she were about to cry.

"There was...a situation," I began, "I managed to subdue my attacker, but we'll need to figure out what to do with him, and quickly—specifically before someone else near the elevator has to go to the bathroom."

"You didn't call security?"

"He had powers."

She flinched, "an iceman..."

"Actually, no—surprisingly. He had some sort of weird charismatic compulsion ability, and he wasn't very strong. This still doesn't bode well though; their forces apparently possess variety, which means we now have even less of an idea of what exactly to expect."

Elsa tucked her head into my chest as she embraced me, alarming me slightly. "Ms. Elsa, the blood-"

"I don't care."

"You should." I pulled her away and held her shoulders, checking her and sighing in relief to see that she hadn't stained her white suit. "The meeting for the merger is still happening this afternoon," I reminded her.

"How are you still keeping your head right now?"

I shrugged, "Military discipline, I guess." I cleared my throat and returned to the subject at hand, "Now, the attacker didn't seem to be here to actually assassinate you, or even me; he was frightened out of his mind when he realized who I was. I think he was here doing some sort of recon."

Elsa frowned, "Did he look like an employee?"

"I'm not really sure, I didn't examine for that."

She was incredulous, "Wha-"

"We should probably first determine what to do with him, preferably now, before it gets messy."

Elsa nodded, running a hand through her hair. She picked up her coffee and sipped from it, "Fine. Take me to him."

— —

Considering the obvious lack a of a commotion when we reached the hallway that the bathroom was located in, I felt it safe to assume that it was empty. The usual lunch rush wouldn't begin for at least another hour either, so we still had a chance.

The man was still unconscious when we returned to him, and Elsa wrinkled her nose at the smell of the restroom as we entered, but stopped short upon seeing him. It only took me about a second to figure out what was going on, and I stepped in front of her to break the line of sight. She blinked back a few times, exiting from her trance.

"What just..." she looked to me, "Was that-"

"Yeah. Charismatic compulsion," I glanced over my shoulder at him, "it seems he doesn't have to be conscious for it to work."

"Well, he is rather handsome..."

I shot her a look and she shrugged defensively, her cheeks beginning to redden, "I'm just stating a fact," she murmured, before sighing and returning her attention to our predicament. Her hands rested on her hips, and she appeared both annoyed and anxious. "You didn't really think this through, did you?" she admonished.

I shrugged helplessly, "It was a combat scenario, there wasn't really anything else that could have been done."

"If he was really here for recon, I doubt he would have provoked you into a fight," she pointed out sharply as she folded her arms over her chest, chastising me with hooded, violet-shadowed eyes.

` In retrospect, I suppose I did act rather rashly, pulling my gun when I did, but I felt justified in doing so, and my suspicions had turned out to be correct. "Are you suggesting that he was here for something else?" I asked, "It's possible that he was trying to recruit an ally—or rather, a  _familiar—_  of sorts."

"Perhaps, but that's a question for another time. How are we going to get him out of here without alerting security? I don't know if you've somehow forgotten, but there are camera everywhere."

"You own the building, I think it would be rather easy to contain that problem."

"Things are fragile enough as they are around here politically; the last thing I need to be doing is providing the board with fuel for them to burn me with; they already don't think I'm worthy of my position."

"Yes, I picked up on that during your...discussion with Ms. Perud."

Elsa laughed once, distracted, eyes scanning the paneled and tiled walls and the crossing beams and tiles that formed the top of the room before stopping at something towards the back. I looked that way as well and saw a vent placed on the ceiling.

"What exactly are you thinking, Elsa?"

"Personally, I think the answer to that question is rather obvious. We'll hide him in the vents until closing time and then retrieve him under the cover of darkness, it's like something out of a movie."

"An  _old_  movie—you know they don't make vents that large anymore for basically that same reason."

She smiled cheekily, "you're forgetting that I designed this...place..." her eyes bunched up in worry as she looked at something behind me, and I heard a groan from something on the floor.

"You've got to be kidding me..." I grumbled, but unfortunately, the universe was not, in fact, kidding me. Mr. Smolder was stirring on the bathroom floor, which drastically shrunk our allotted planning time from an hour to about three minutes, and likely less. "Close your eyes, Elsa."

Smolder's eyes blearily blinked open and he looked up at me, "Oh, you're still here. That's weird..." He tried to sit up, but his bound arm held him back as the metal cuffs clanked against the stall. He hung his head and chuckled to himself. "Tell me, Guardian," he began, and looked up at me dramatically with suggestively raised eyebrows and a smirk as he rattled the handcuffs, "are you really into this sort of thing?" I was spared the need to explain when he caught sight of Elsa, whom he regarded with a mix of awe and panic. He smiled again, lips trembling and twitching, "Well! If it isn't the damned witch herself!"

Elsa flinched at the label, her eyes still closed as she stood behind me. Smolder's smile widened, and he became more bold at her unintentional display of weakness, "You know, my power lies in more than just my beautiful face, babe-" the temperature dropped at the words, and I heard the crackling of ice. Her eyes opened, but the did not contain the fury that I was expecting.

"Elsa, what-"

The crackling continued, and I realized to my horror that the sound wasn't from the encroaching frost in the room as I had suspected, but from the handcuffs, which were now icing over and freezing solid. Smolder sneered, and with a hard yank, broke the now brittle bindings and leapt to his feet.

"No!" I attempted to tackle him, but he dexterously hopped out of the way with a laugh. I growled and lunged again, but smashed straight into a thick wall of ice that pounded against my weak shoulder like a collision with a locomotive and knocked the breath out of me. I fell hard on my back, struggling to breathe, as I heard the door open from the other side of the barrier

as quick footfalls rushed out and away down the hall.

"Damnit!" I wheezed and whipped around, fists clenched, as my glare settled on my charge. "Elsa, why did you-" I stopped short—she seemed to have just realized what she had done. I hid my face in one of my hands, frustrated and severely wanted to punch something. We had underestimated that man, who seemed to excel well enough with manipulation in order to effortlessly compensate for what he lacked in strength or potency.

"I don't- I-I..." her hands were over her chest, grasping at one another as she stared at and beyond the mess before her through the moisture building in her eyes. I exhaled deeply and straightened, noticing the first, darkened tear as it ran down her pale face. This was yet another reminder that we were completely unprepared for what we had fallen into.

"It's not your fault, calm down, Elsa."

"But I-"

"Was compelled against your will to adhere to his suggestions." I grasped her shoulder in an attempt at providing comfort, and registered in the back of my mind the way that she closed her eyes and leaned into the contact. "That's what he does. I'm not blaming you for anything."

Now calm, her voice was level when she spoke, "Thank you." Her hand reached up to grasp at mine, but being so relatively small, she only managed to take hold of three of the fingers. "We'll need to find out where that man came from , but for now," she paused, drawing herself up as she donned her aloof and intimidating mask, the facade of an ice queen, "I have other business to attend to."

I exhaled and nodded, her own apprehension towards it beginning to take hold of my own mind as well, "Quite so."

— —

It was twenty minutes until one o'clock, and I was walking alongside a recollected and reaffirmed Elsa, who now practically marched toward the boardroom, with a focus and determination I hadn't hardly seen since my military days. When we entered, only one of the board members was already present, an unassuming man who was asleep in his chair that faced the window. Elsa tapped on the top of his seat's headrest as she walked past it and toward the white chair at the head of the smooth, granite slab of a table. The man jumped awake and straightened, refusing to acknowledge his sleepiness or the fact that it had been noticed. As Elsa took her seat, I took my place at the wall, behind her and off to the side, far enough out of the way of the business that was to be conducted, but not so distant that I would be unable to do my job, just as she liked it.

Within the following minutes, the rest of the board members trickled in and took their places at the end of the table closest to Elsa. Mrs. Perud was among them and shot her own bullet of a glare that virtually bounced off of Elsa's Kevlar facade as she looked back passively. Her porcelain hands clenched tightly under the table, and if they were truly composed of that material, they would have cracked from the pressure. Alongside Perud, her own bodyguard walked in, a tanned, tall, and extremely muscular man with long, black hair. He wore a black suit with gold buttons and a purple tie. His eyes, nested between a narrow and well-defined nose that was positioned above a sharp and protruding chin, oddly looked about the well-lit room with a childlike innocence. At his charge's flippant prompting, he saluted and stood next to me along the wall, at which point it became noticeably apparent that he was significantly taller than me. I observed him briefly but did not acknowledge him any further, or at least tried not to. He looked over at me and gave a friendly smile, "Hey. How you doing?"

"I'm...fine," I answered, stumbling in the wake of the unwarranted socialization.

He nodded in agreement with closed eyes, before turning his head back to me, "The name's Kronk, personal and professional bodyguard of Yzma Perud." He seemed immensely proud of it, and for some reason reminded me of a five-year-old at show-and-tell. I merely nodded and turned my attention back to the room. Luckily he seemed to take the hint and didn't say anything else.

On the dot, and right as the hourly chimes on a few of the executives' fancy platinum, gold, silver, and ebony watches announced the dawn of a new hour, the frosted glass doors opened to admit five tall and strikingly similar auburn-haired men into the room. They were all dressed in princely, freshly dry-cleaned gray suits with immaculate maroon ties, and all sat down at the other end of the table, with the eldest member of the entourage, who sported a full and graying beard, sideburns, and a comb over, taking his place at the head, directly opposite from Elsa along the massive table. The foreign group all folded their white gloved hands before them and sat back in their chairs, their demeanors all comfortable, assertive, and attentive. Their eyes all flicked to Elsa at the same time, five pairs of green.

"Good afternoon, gentlemen," Elsa called out, her voice carrying across the room with strength of will, power, and the ease that it brings. "Welcome to Frost. If you wouldn't mind, I would prefer it if we were to get straight to business."

The head of the visiting party smiled politely and nodded, "That would be most appreciated, madame."

The suits began their work, and it was not long before I was lost in the jargon and the technicalities that were ages and eons beyond me. While the words that they spoke were impossible for me to follow, their tones were enough, dancing and fencing together with their bodies in a language that was innately understood. I glanced at the large man beside me and was surprised by his attentiveness. His eyes flicked back and forth across the room as he followed the negotiations, frowning and smirking when appropriate.

A cold shiver brought me back to Elsa. She was becoming visibly tense, and I found my thoughts returning to her words, her lessening control. I could an indescribable pressure building, encroaching on everything, and I could feel my heart racing.

Something was coming.

Elsa stood, and the rest followed her lead, the sounds of their rolling chairs and their ruffling clothes breaking me from my daze, leaving me to realize that all I had been feeling wasjust the pulse of my blood as it pounded through my skull. The room was now almost uncomfortably warm.

"With that, I would say that we're settled," Elsa stated with finality, hands folded before her with her head held high and her spine straight and rigid with regality. The others around the table began to gather the documents that they had brought, and from the other end of the table, the CEO of South Isles smiled.

"I agree. My people will begin the necessary preparations."

Elsa nodded and threw on a grin of her own. Though it appeared as false and professional as always, I could tell by the barely contained bounce in her ankles that it was genuine; curiously, Elsa always expressed her true feelings with her entire body. The other employees stilled suddenly, tense and anxious that she was about to do something drastic and cold. It was hard to whether she even noticed, for her facade never wavered. "In celebration of the grand partnership formed by this successful agreement between our two parties, I will be hosting a ball at Arendelle Manor in a week's time. Our staff will ensure that you all receive your invitations. Feel free to bring guests."

The CEO and his advisors nodded again with identical smiles while the other half of the table were barely concealing shock and confusion—Ms. Perud's reaction was perhaps the most comical, with fully widened eyes, thin lips crushed into a flat line, and nostrils flared like exhaust from a jet engine.

Elsa pushed in her chair, and her crystal blues eyes snapped up, "Adjourned."

At the single-word command, everyone began to file out of the room, shaking hands with each other as they went, and the executives from South Isles each did the same for Elsa.

"I look forward to seeing you at the ball," one of the sons said, Percy, if I remembered correctly from the discussion, or maybe it was Alek; after all, Elsa had forgone the pleasantries, skipping the introductions—everyone else already knew their names from their documents and resources except for me, and I was left to try and follow the scattered breadcrumbs.

Elsa pasted her smile back on, "I'm sure you do." She began to make her exit, her staff clearing a berth around her out of wariness, and I followed. Once she was outside of the room, she retreated swiftly to her office, posture still rigid with her hands fisted at her side as hurried heels clacked on tile.

The solid, wooden door closed behind us, and the moment that the lock clicked, a sudden and violent explosion of white blasted out from her and scared the ever-living hell out of me. It was all of her pent-up anxiety and stress, released in a single and powerful burst of snow. The blast had knocked several things from their places. A thin flatscreen monitor lay face-down on the seat of her chair, a reproduced painting of a girl on a swing had been dislodged from its hooks on the wall to vanish behind a filing cabinet, and papers were strewn and scattered about everywhere. In addition, everything was covered in snow, and even more of the flakes floated and swirled down to the ground. Elsa was desperately gasping for air as if she had been holding her breath for the longest time, and I began to worry if she actually had.

She sighed with relief, deeply, and a tired smile slowly overtook her features. "It's over..."

"How did it go?"

Confounded, she turned to face me, "What do you mean? You were there."

"Physically, yes, but that's about it. I didn't understand hardly any of it. There's a reason why I'm a bodyguard and not a businessman."

Elsa sighed again, this time with slight irritation, before explaining. "It went well. The brothers hardly spoke, and let their father do most of the talking. We managed to settle a deal that greatly favored us. It almost felt a little too good to be true. I have no doubt they are aware that they agreed to an arrangement that puts them at a disadvantage—they've been running South Isles admirably well on their own."

"Do you think they'll try something at the ball?"

"It wouldn't surprise me." She shivered and grimaced, "I hate parties..."

"And yet you decided to arrange one," I stated with suspiciously leered eyes.

"Family tradition," Elsa said dismissively. She looked about the room, shoulders sagging as she looked out at the white, powdery mess. It was a while before she spoke again. "Do you think things will go back to normal now?"

"Define normal."

She groaned, and I could tell by the motion of her head that she was likely rolling her eyes, "I'm referring to my recent lack of control, smart-ass. We thought that it was related to my apprehension about the meeting, didn't we?"

"We did consider that theory, yes. I don't think it's the only contributor though; you practically live your entire life in this state of stress and anxiety. This really isn't the best career choice for your situation."

She spun around, "I will  _not_ abandon my family's legacy," she insisted defensively.

"I wasn't saying that you should, just that you're not in the best position to easily reign this in, and after that confrontation from this morning, we really need to be more careful than ever; they're watching us." My tone was cautious, reflecting the concern that I felt, and brought down Elsa's defenses, along with the actual spikes that had bristled behind her, to her slight embarrassment.

She smoothed out her hair and cleared her throat. "On the other front, preparations must be made for the party. We're going dress shopping tomorrow."

"Together?" I asked with a frown, completely thrown off by her words.

"Yes," she replied obviously before adding slowly, "You...seem surprised."

"I am, but if you can believe it, I'm actually more surprised that you're going  _with_  me. Generally you just send me off by myself to do your errands."

She opened her mouth to say something, but then clamped it shut and hung her head as the unspoken thoughts evaporated into the blush that was spreading across her face.

I crossed my arms, amused slightly, "Well, this is odd. That's the second time today that you've been without a witty quip to retort with. I'm beginning to think that you're not actually who you say you are, Ms. 'Elsa'."

My response led her to look up, confused at first until she saw that I was smiling, after which her own lips curved into a smirk as she gazed back at me. After about five seconds of staring, she suddenly frowned again with a defeated spraying of her hands, "I still got nothing."

I couldn't help but chuckle at that, and it brought back her smile. I then gave her a look and a cock of the head as I held out an expectant hand, "Then I'm going to need to see some I.D., missy."

She burst out laughing, a hand hovering over her mouth as if she were trying to hide the pleasant sound. After a quick glance, which was more reflex than anything else, around the obviously empty room, she began to calm, but while the outburst faded, her beautiful smile and the heat in her cheeks refused to do the same.

She noticed me admiring her and looked up again. "What?"

"That's the first time I've ever heard you laugh."

Her blush strengthened, and her eyes searched her thoughts as she looked down at her feet. My smile widened further, "I hope it won't be the last."

Her hands folded themselves before her, and her small grin packed more hope and contentment than any expression ever could. Her frozen irises held a sincere promise, "It won't be."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: While writing this monster of a chapter (7,468 freaking words!), I had finally watched The Emperor's New Groove for the first time, which was one of the many classic Disney films that I never had the chance to watch during my childhood but now can thanks to the amazing powers of the almighty Netflix, praise be its name. I then proceeded to rewrite multiple parts of this chapter with a much better understanding of its characters. That movie is hilarious.
> 
> Also, reviews and feedback would be appreciated so please leave some if you can.


	11. Revelations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I'm a bit late on this, been suffering a little bit of writer's block with this area of the story. Things will pick up soon, but in the meantime, here, have some fluff. Also, happy Valentine's Day. Also, you may have noticed that I dropped the rating down from M to T. Depending on how crazy everything gets later on, it may end up going back to M. We shall have to see where the Muses take me to know for sure.

Having been an only child and an orphan, I haven't ever had any prior first-hand experience with shopping with women. I knew the stereotypes, of course, but I was amazed at how accurate they seemed to be as I walked behind Elsa, both arms laden with countless bags of inconsequential  _stuff_. The day after the merger, Elsa had taken me to Calibre Shopping Center to shop for a dress, and we had begun at a large department store located somewhere else in the megaplex of a mall. After what felt like several long and grueling hours of walking, carrying, sitting, standing, staring into space, massaging my injured shoulder, and giving the same positive responses to each outfit presented to me, we finally broke for lunch at the food court.

It was noisy with the chatter of its hundreds of patrons, creating a rolling hum that negated both the need for and the practicality of background music. Elsa and I selected a booth in the center of the high-ceilinged expanse, which was brightly lit by a series of massive floor-to-ceiling windows that twisted in harmony with the complex's odd yet pleasing and fantastical aesthetic, and I sat down heavily across from her, glad for the chance to be relieved of my cosmetic and linen burdens. Elsa leaned on the table with folded arms and studied my face inquisitively. No longer distracted by the allure of sales and merchandise, she seemed to finally notice how blatantly miserable I was. On my part, years of self-discipline and the ever-present need to uphold an intimidating exterior as a bodyguard led me to keep a straight face throughout the whole ordeal, but no amount of conscious will can completely conceal the subtle yet noticeable details that accompany our emotions, and whatever those tells were at that moment, they had caught Elsa's attention.

She gave a lopsided frown of passive sympathy as she continued to regard me, "Sorry."

"Hm," I grunted, not wanting to actually talk to her. It was odd how much things had changed between us since I had learned about her powers. The formalities had gradually crept out through the windows, and from there, everything else just cascaded down, all the walls and all the barriers, until the only thing that remained, untouched amongst the rubble, was an odd friendship full of casual interactions, minute hints of something more, and the ability to read one another like a book splayed open on a table, a skill that only seems to develop after significant amounts of observation.

None of this could have ever happened a month ago, I thought to myself.

I begrudgingly rose from the table and turned to her, "The usual?"

"Of course."

I nodded and headed toward the restaurants. Despite how far we had come, some things never really do change.

I returned some time later with our food and came up to the booth to place the tray down...before an empty seat.

" _Shit!"_

I was set immediately into a panic with my mind going immediately for the worst case scenario as my hand went absently for my gun, clutching it in its holster as my eyes scanned around.

Right before I was about to lose hope and look for a security droid, I caught sight of her bright hair, which was hiding her eyes as she stared down at her phone, weaving through the crowds with skill that I would have considered commendable had I not of been entirely pissed at her. She was typing away at her device while carrying a small red bag that hung from the crook of her arm.

 _She couldn't even resist the urge to buy something for longer than five minutes_ , I grumbled internally.

She didn't look up until she was at the table, and her eyes bulged before she attempted pitifully to hide the bag behind her back. She then tried to smile at me, "Well, you got back a lot sooner than I expected."

"Where were you? And why would you run off by yourself like that?" I inquired angrily.

She sighed, and actually allowed herself to appear somewhat guilty, "I know the risks of it, Kristoff, but it was worth it."

"You were willing to risk your life over a trinket?" I deadpanned. "We are  _literally_ being hunted, Elsa."

She frowned and wrinkled her nose, "It's not a trinket, and before you ask, I'm not going to tell you what it was."

"I wasn't going to ask," I snapped, raising an eyebrow.

She pursed her lips, and after a moment, she realized she was still standing, and sat down in the booth before digging into the bag with her lunch. She frowned suspiciously as she pulled out a well-balanced sub sandwich, "This isn't the usual," she accused flatly.

I shrugged, still feeling a bit miffed, "They didn't exactly have chocolate cake, so I went with what actually made sense."

Her impassive stare reflected back at me. "You're a bodyguard, not a nutritionist."

"Well, you haven't really been letting me do that lately, so I figured I ought to do something else."

She inaudibly muttered something under her breath and reached for the cup of coffee beside the bag, smirking as she picked it up, "At least you got  _something_ right." She sipped at it, and upon tasting it, her face contorted strangely before she focused a hurt glare at me as if I had betrayed her, "this is  _decaf_!" she hissed incredulously.

I cocked my head slightly, "You can tell?"

"Of course I can tell!" She was flushed now, and her furious eyes wavered their contact with mine before they dropped to the table and her hands, which were again wringing each other. It was completely silent except for the white noise of the mall.

"You're not being fair," she stated petulantly.

"Says the woman who forced an injured man to carry her absurdly large mountain of purchases," I retorted, and then added, "I honestly don't know why they don't have shopping carts here..."

"I said I was sorry!"

"You didn't seem very sincere about it. On top of that, you then went and knowingly endangered yourself!" I rested my elbows on the table and clasped my hands together below my chin, "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you're trying to spite me."

"Then apparently you  _don't_  know any better.  _You're_ the one being spiteful. I want my cake and my coffee— _real_ coffee."

"And how exactly would you be motivated to end this whole outing when you're hyped up on caffeine?"

"We're done when we get my dress, not before." She hastily replaced the sandwich in the bag and slid it over to me before standing up, "I'm not even hungry anymore. Let's go."

— —

Elsa didn't stop at any more stores, and as she practically marched our little duo along, her boiling anger began to run cold, and by the time we arrived at the tailor's shop, she looked almost as tired as I was, though her burden only existed in her mind. Above our heads, the business's name was cryptically just a single letter, "E", cleanly cut from flat and lustrous steel. The establishment's standard, bulletproof glass storefront presented mannequins adorned in a variety of unique designs, some interesting, some practical, some extremely utilitarian, and others utterly absurd, though all of them shared an equal quality of craftsmanship and attention to detail. Within the store, however, there were no racks of clothing, only a counter, a waiting area, and a door that no doubt led to the tailor's workspace.

We entered and approached the counter, with Elsa in the lead as she had been for the entirety of this consumerist and somewhat heated expedition, and shortly after, a rather lackluster and apathetic receptionist appeared and came forth. She at first seemed extremely bored, but upon seeing us, her face brightened a little and she leaned towards us on the counter, hands clasped on the edge of it. She turned to Elsa, "Good afternoon, welcome to E. I presume you know already why you're here?"

Elsa nodded stiffly and smiled without any real emotion, "Of course."

The woman smiled, "Ms. Mode will be with you shortly. You can wait in here if you'd like." The employee's eyes flipped back and forth between Elsa and me before she suddenly giggled and turned away from the counter to enter the depths of the store, presumably to find this "Mode" character. Before she turned the corner, she turned to look back at us, and her smile grew further as she sighed dreamily to herself, "It's always such a pleasure to see a happy couple."

I glanced over at Elsa curiously to find her blushing with a gaping mouth and wide eyes. "But we're not..." She gave up, trailing off slowly, for the other woman was now well out of both sight and earshot. Elsa exhaled heavily, and her nervous hands absently found one another as she continued to stand there, while I sat down heavily in the nearest plush chair, involuntary sighing in relief as the stiffness in my legs began to recede. It was a temporary reprieve, I knew, but a few minutes were better than nothing. My exhalation of comfort jarred Elsa from the spiraling Penrose staircase of thoughts she was likely stuck climbing, and she sat down in the seat next to mine before crossing her legs and resting her hands in her lap. She was purposefully trying very hard not to look at me, but was failing miserably.

"Why do you think this keeps happening?" she asked discreetly and quietly, the soft atmosphere of the room causing us to feel the need to whisper.

"Well, when a man and a woman of similar ages walk into a dress shop together, there aren't many other situations that immediately come to mind," I stated plainly with a shrug.

Her hands rubbed at her temples as she sighed.

"So what are we here for exactly?" I questioned.

Elsa scoffed, leaned slightly away, and regarded me with an arctic gaze, "My dress?" She stated it obviously and with raised eyebrows. "Did you hit your head or something?" she asked, both concerned and incredulous.

I gestured to the bags that surrounded me like an assortment of sheep grazing around their fatigued and slightly mad shepherd, "If we came all this way just for a tailored dress, then what was all the rest of this about? Had we of come straight here, we would have been done literally hours ago."

She shrugged, "It was on the way-"

"Not all of it," I reminded her irritably.

She rolled her eyes; in her interactions with me her usual defense mechanisms were dropped in favor of her sass, which she seemed to be just as skilled with as she was with her power over a particular element.

I sighed, "Are you really going to wear all of these clothes? You've never requested me to get so many on my previous errands."

Elsa looked at me innocently, "I didn't know they were there before; I wasn't there with you." After a moment of deep thought, which was full of downcast eyes and lip biting, she reached across me to dig her hand into a curiously familiar red bag that was by my left foot.

"Here." She had drawn out a soft and stuffed teddy bear with beady black eyes, curly light brown fur, and a little red bowtie, and now held it out to me. She smiled, "Consider it a peace offering."

I was taken entirely by surprise at the gesture and wasn't sure how respond. "I-"

She didn't wait for me to try and finish, and instead continuously pressed the stuffed animal into my chest until I conceded and took the small bear into my large hands, which accidentally brushed against her smooth fingers, which jolted in response. I examined the fluffy canine doll with my elbows resting on my knees and realized that I didn't remember her ever purchasing the bear at any of the stores we had been to.

I looked up at Elsa with a curious expression, and her small smile grew a little. "You were looking particularly sour earlier—from all shopping, I suppose—so when you went to get our lunch, I... decided to go get something to try and cheer you up." She was smiling sweetly, but with creased brows, as if she was still wondering to herself why she had actually done it. Her head tilted a fraction, "I told you I thought it was worth it."

 _You were trekking about in public, without any security or escort of_ any  _kind, to buy me a stuffed animal?_ I wondered internally, someone in awe, and somewhat flattered."That's...rather considerate," I offered instead, sounding quite bewildered.

She smirked with a cocked eyebrow, "What? Does that surprise you? I'd think that you and I have been together long enough for you to know that I actually  _do_  have a heart beating behind this wall of ice, despite how hard it is to believe sometimes." My gaze toward her only became warier; I don't think she actually realized how her words had sounded aloud. The way that she had phrased it held so many implications, strange ones, intimate ones, and forbidden ones, all of which were strangely pleasant-sounding to me on a level that was clearly not mindful of logic or circumstance. I felt myself begin to feel flustered, so much so that I could practically hear the gears in my brain as they ticked and turned while my mind began to work itself into a corner, wondering if Else had said her exact words as a joke, a pure accident, or because of some unconscious inclination, like a Freudian slip. I was entirely overthinking the whole thing, even beginning to wonder if I actually was in the first place, and that indecision in itself made it even more evident that it was true.

I stared back down at the doll impassively, and Elsa frowned, apparently hurt by my lack of enthusiasm. An embarrassed and somewhat indignant flush began to overtake her, rising up from her neck along with the walls of her social boundaries as she reached for the bear, "Well, I-if you don't want it, I'll just-"

I squeezed my eyes shut as I cringed sharply from her distress, feeling it as if it were my own, "No, it's fine- I mean," I turned to face her and managed what I hoped was a grateful smile, "Thank you."

"I- you're...welcome," she replied softly and clumsily, smiling shyly. She quickly recovered and jabbed a finger into my chest with her usual intensity, her unpainted, manicured nail poking at me sharply, "But  _don't lose it_. If you do, our treaty is off."

I almost snorted, bemused and slightly confused, "Treaty? Since when were we ever at war?"

She smirked, "Pretty much from the start of this whole shopping trip if I were to hear you tell it. You made it pretty clear that you didn't want to be here, and I probably didn't make it any better by complaining, disappearing or using you as my little pack mule."

"Little?" I repeated incredulously, and she laughed, a quiet and demure one, but a genuine one nonetheless.

She was being oddly...comfortable with me. That isn't to say that she hadn't been before, but that had more to do with trust and secrets than it did with a real relationship.

The gears were turning again.

The lingering touches, the long gazes, the genuine smiles, the closeness of mind and body, the banter, and now a gift. The circumstances were different, of course, simply a bodyguard and their charge. Nothing more—it couldn't  _be_  anything more, but those isolated incidents, now put together, pointed to a result that was equal parts terrifying and flattering: those were all things that couples did. Each piece of evidence on its own could be easily refuted by other possibilities, but together, they played on one another, combined into a solid and undoubtedly real construct and led to only one valid conclusion. Something was  _definitely_  going on between us, and even if we were unable to realize or acknowledge it, almost everyone who looked seemed to see it.

_It's not entirely strange for a charge to feel close to their bodyguard._

"Kristoff?" Her voice dredged me up from the depths, and I looked up from the doll. My eyes found her watching me with concern.

Before I could open my mouth, we heard the receptionist approach the counter again. Elsa stood, her expression as featureless as a plain of fresh snow as ice-cold eyes locked onto the employee, who involuntarily shivered under the frigid gaze.

"Um, Ms. Mode will see you now." She replied, with furrowed brows and shifting eyes. Elsa and I both rose at the summons and proceeded through the door, steeling ourselves further as we went. Though I don't entirely know Elsa's reasons, I knew I was merely bracing myself for another long and tiresome round of sitting on a stool and saying that everything looks fine. Through the door lay a short and unassuming hallway with a sturdy metal door and a series of unmarked keypads and other security mechanisms that were placed at a curiously low point on the wall. To our confusion, the short corridor was also empty.

"Ahem."

Elsa started, and we both looked around, not seeing anyone until we happened to look down, and we were then confronted by the sight of an incredibly short woman with round glasses, short black hair cut into a bob, and an odd black blouse that had a curious likeness to the shape and pattern of dragon scales but with the texture and sheen of satin. Despite her short stature, she carried herself highly, with her back straight and a limp hand raised palm up in a display of self-importance. Her dark, intelligent eyes sized me up and down like a drone performing an analysis on a target, efficiently searching for its strengths and weaknesses with essentially just an in-depth glance.

"You must be Elsa."

Perhaps I was reading too much into things.

"What?" I replied somewhat dumbly, unable to really articulate anything better through my surprise and confusion.

"You're imposing, intimidating, icy, and incredibly formal—the conclusion was  _obvious_ , darling. It's a bit of an odd name for a man, I suppose, but then again, you  _have_ ordered yourself a  _dress_ , Mr. Arendelle."

Elsa cut in, breaking down her walls with her embarrassment and the strong need to correct the odd misunderstanding, "He's not Elsa,  _I'm_  Elsa! You've got all of this-"

The short woman waved her off with a hand, "Yes, yes I know, darling, I was just messing with you; a little deception and joking now and then is good for you. You should try it sometime." She took in our baffled expressions and smirked as if she could see through our efforts to conceal our discomfort. She then turned on a heel and approached the panels, which were level with her chest, eliminating the mystery behind their oddly low placement. She quickly entered a long password on the keypad, scanned her handprint on a screen to the left of it, then her eye, and lastly answered a voice prompt, "Edna Mode."

A tile suddenly opened on the ceiling, slamming the metal square aside with a clang, and from it, a massive and undoubtedly lethal military-grade phaser cannon—specifically a mounted HM-4 Tri-blaster if my memory from my service days was still intact—popped out and targeted Elsa, and without even a spark of premeditation, I tackled her out of the way and shielded her with my body. As I realized that there was hardly anything I could do to actually protect her from the impending lasers, I braced myself for the inevitable feeling of searing agony that would end our lives.

"And guests."

I heard the gun detract and the slam of the closing tile, and with my heart still hammering in my chest, whipped around furiously to face Edna, who regarded me idly.

"What?"

"Do you realize that you have just made an attempt on my charge's  _life_?"

"Oh, don't be so dramatic, darling, there's nothing wrong with a little well-placed high security. Come on now."

"Are you really just going to ignore this?" I yelled indignantly at her back as she proceeded on through the door.

"Feh! I never look back, darling; it distracts from the now."

I felt soft hands pushing against me and looked down to see Elsa looking back at me with cool crystal blue eyes that silently requested that I get off of her. I awkwardly stood and moved back a step before offering a hand to her. She accepted it and rose with my assistance. She thanked me with an honest glance before frowning, and then picked off a bit of lint from my suit jacket before she turned and followed Edna, looking back at me as I caught up.

We had entered a dark room, full of metal tiles and glowing computer monitors, not nearly close to the kind of scene I had been expecting for the workshop of a tailor or fashion designer. At one side of the room, thick, floor to ceiling glass windows created a barrier between the dim, lab-like space and the brightly-lit, high-ceilinged chamber on the other side. Edna led us to sit in a set of chairs that were near the side wall, close to the glass and mounted on short platform with a small table, which were all clearly placed there for observational purposes, and from those seats, we faced the barrier as if it were a screen.

"Now, here we are," Edna began as the wall on our left within the lit chamber opened, and revealed a mannequin that was supported by a rod from below and walking elegantly while wearing a dress. It was predominantly light blue in color—not unlike the hue of a thick glacier, even sharing the same gradient of color from the top to the bottom, gradually becoming a slightly deeper blue as the gaze of one's eyes descended. The neckline was off-the-shoulder and asymmetrical, and the base of the dress, which was patterned with faint wintry swirls, just brushed the floor. The torso was supported by a heart-shaped bodice that resembled a corset, and despite the literal presence of a seam between its bottom edge and the shift, the colors flowed seamlessly with the rest of it. The sleeves shared a similar gradient, but were overall much darker, and ended in a near solid black where the disappeared underneath cerulean gloves that covered the hands and most of the forearms. Faint swirls were also traced along the length of both the gloves and the sleeves.

Elsa was moved by the sight and couldn't help but gape open-mouthed at it. As the metal figure moved along, the mounted seating area slowly moved with it, "Edna, it's...this is  _beautiful!_ "

"Well, of course it is, honey,  _I'm_  the one who designed it!" She pressed a button on the arm of her chair, which I then realized was quite different from ours, and the mannequin lurched before stopping and turning to face us. I noticed that the metal humanoid had a surprising likeness to Elsa's form. "Not only that, but it is functional as well," she added as a series of machine guns rose and aimed directly at the dress before opening fire, lighting up the room with tracer rounds and muzzle flares. "It is completely bulletproof, but still lightweight, keeping you completely protected in the event of an attempted assassination-"

Elsa leaned over, squinting in the light and feeling somewhat confused, "I don't think I-"

Edna again waved her off with a hand, "Nonsense, darling! In times like these, you can never be too careful, especially with your current little predicament." She smiled and glanced at me knowingly, and then back at Elsa, who now seemed alarmed in addition to puzzled. Goosebumps rose along my skin and brushed against my clothes.

"What do you mean, exactly?" Elsa asked evenly, a warning masked in an inquiry.

"Well, what with your powers being exposed and notifying  _them_ , I'd say you've found yourself in a rather rough place." She tapped another button on the armrest as if nothing was amiss, and the metallic mannequin began to frost over as the chamber was super-cooled, "You'll also find that the fabric does not become brittle or stiffen when subject to sub-zero temperatures-"

"Edna!" she snapped.

"What?! What?! What are you interrupting me for? I'm trying to do something for  _you_!"

"How do you-"

"Know? Feh! Of course I know, darling, I'm in the loop too, you know. Have you forgotten? Ah well, I suppose you might; Pabbie never really mentions us agents very much, he's always more concerned with his own little flock of midnight typists."

"Edna, you're not making any sense!"

Her eyes leered, and then widened intensely as they flicked to me, "She doesn't know?"

Well, that was certainly a revelation, and with it came a storm, slowly brewing, but steadily building, in the form of thin red lips, squinted cerulean irises, neat creased brows, and the coldest temperatures that I've ever felt.

"What on earth do I not know?" She was glaring at me, and I could feel my toes and nose going numb.

"Um..."

" _Kristoff Rudolph Bjorgman,_  what the  _hell_ are you hiding from me?"

_She knows my middle name?_

"We...have an intelligence network."

She blinked a few times, trying to absorb the admission. "...We?" she confirmed slowly, and her gaze flipped down and to her left.

"Your father started it after the...first incident. It's been growing ever since."

"Why wasn't I notified?" She still hadn't looked up.

"We felt that you were already dealing with enough at the moment and that it would be best to proactively assist you from a distance as needed. I personally disagreed with their decision but saw and conceded to their reasoning."

She said nothing for a moment, but her hands clenched where the hung from the arm rests, "Does Kai know?"

"Yes."

She immediately stood then and headed for the door, "We're returning home. Now."

Edna was looking back and forth between us, somewhat bewildered, as I stood and nodded, "Yes ma'am."

I turned and followed, and when Elsa reached the door, Edna called, "I'll have your dress to you before the ball, you needn't worry—and Kristoff," I turned, "Do send my regards to the team, won't you, darling?"

"I will, ma'am," I replied stiffly before following Elsa out and wondering just how badly things were going to play out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, it would seem a bit of plot spilled into our fluff. It tends to do that sometimes. Once again, I'm sorry this is so late. As you may have noticed, this chapter is a bit shorter than most of the recent ones, and that is because the second half will be merged with chapter 12 when it's all written; I didn't want to drag this overdue episode out any further. If all goes well, that one should be on time. Thank you for your patience, and see you in two weeks.
> 
> P.S. Elsa's dress would have had the cape from canon, but this is Edna Mode we're talking about here :). I actually sketched it out when trying to combine the coronation and ice dresses. Here's a link to it http://thevertigomastercontent.tumblr.com/post/110966970024/wg-elsas-dress-for-the-corporate-balldescribed-in


	12. Party Pooper

Ice and wind, found in the essence of her subzero gaze and the wake of her passing. Her footsteps were frost, heels clinking like metal, and her stare froze all who met it with fear. I trailed behind, off to her left to avoid her frozen footprints that marked the carpeted corridor; her ice was so cold that it was condensing the surrounding air as it sucked in the heat. I said nothing about the conspicuous trail, fearing what she would do to me in her already frightening state if I were to comment on it.

She burst through the doors at the end of the hall that led to the staff offices, which was a long room with a common area connected to a series of walled and private office rooms that were positioned on the left, and tall, paned and curtained windows on the right allowed the orange-hued light of the evening sun to shine in. Elsa whipped her head around, looking past the startled wide eyes of those in the room as she searched for someone else's.

"Where's Kai?!" she bellowed, her loud and commanding voice echoing across the polished and varnished amber wood walls and hardwood floors. The sound of a doorknob turning echoed back from farther into the room, and a door with a frosted glass window opened slowly, before a balding and somewhat wary head peered from around it as Kai looked about cautiously. His eyes met mine for a flash, reading my resignation quickly before they snapped to Elsa's.

"Yes?" His voice sounded surprisingly collected, concealing his trepidation if there even was any. His gaze slowly lifted as she neared him so that he could maintain eye contact with the tall and slender tempest of a woman.

Instead of replying, the furious blonde simply strode past him into his office before yanking him after her and slamming the door shut behind them both. An awkward silence fell over the rest of the room until the shouting began.

"Why didn't you tell me?!"

"Ms. Arendelle I-"

"Don't you  _dare_  deny this! Why did you hide the network from me?"

"You found out?"

"Why didn't you tell me, Kai?!"

The discomfort from the argument led the few employees milling around to leave the room while I stood in the doorway, wondering how long it would take to pass over. Elsa's rage was like a terrible blizzard and could potentially last for an extended period of time.

"Partly because you would have inevitably done what you are doing right now," Kai replied, his voice still calm in the face of the storm. "In addition, you already have enough to worry about, and...it was your father's wish that it remain under wraps."

"I had a right to know about this!"

He sighed, and I could imagine that he looked away from Elsa then. "I agree," he muttered silently.

"Then why would you...Look, just lay all your cards on the table, Kai. I'm sick and tired of all these lies!"

"Then I advise that  _you_  do the same, Ms. Arendelle. I do believe there is a rather important matter you have been intentionally concealing from Mr. Bjorgman."

I felt that I had an inkling about what he was referring to, and found myself becoming even more invested in the exchange.

"He'll know eventually," she snapped defensively.

"But will that be from you or on his own?"

"That is none of your concern!"

"Correct."

His words stuck in the air, and from them the implication was plain as day. The entire room seemed to hold its breath from the tension that the pregnant pause created.

"You need to tell him- Elsa!"

The door slammed open on its hinges and the knob banged into the adjacent wall as it collided with it, and Elsa stormed out, her face red with fury and her eyes downcast. As she brushed past me, my worried eyes lifted from her to view the open door, and I saw Kai looking back at us with the same tired and concerned expression that I had worn when he first saw me. Elsa tugged on my sleeve until I turned and followed her, glancing back once more in time to see Kai close the door to his office.

— —

I sat shivering in a hard, wooden, and white-painted chair beside Elsa's bed, wondering how exactly I had gotten there as she lay face down on the bed, still dressed in her clothes from our afternoon outing and positioned diagonally with her bare, pale feet angled closest to me; she had immediately flopped onto the soft and somewhat bouncy surface of the mattress when she entered the room about ten minutes ago. The bedchamber itself looked just as it had the last time I had been here except for the pair of discarded heels that had been dropped next to the bed and the other assorted articles of clothing, which lay on the floor in a haphazard path that stretched crookedly toward the white connected bathroom and the shower that resided within it. Elsa sighed into the sheet-covered mattress for the umpteenth time, and I finally exhaled back in response, watching the condensating air as it floated upward and dissipated as it attempted to permeate throughout the room.

She suddenly sat up on her elbows and rolled over onto her back, her snow-white hands folding over her belly and her pale blue irises staring blankly at and past the fabric canopy of the bed for a moment's pause, before her head rolled to the side and she looked up at me with a small frown fitted to her face. She didn't say anything, only observed me as I regarded her with passivity and a slowly growing blend of curiosity and apprehension, affected as I was by her eccentric display and her intimidating eyes. A visible breath through my nose distracted her, and the set of her mouth tightened.

"We need to go the cabin." she stated plainly.

"And let off some steam?" I ventured.

"More like level a whole forest," she grumbled, and I couldn't help but smirk. It didn't go unnoticed, and she returned it a little before sitting up on the bed. "With Syd gone, do you think we can in the future resume having our sessions at the manor?"

"I'm not sure," I answered honestly, "Your powers are growing in strength with each passing day, but with that positive surge there seems to also come an equal increase in conspicuousness."

Her smile widened at a particular thought that crossed her, "So you're afraid of being seen wearing full winter gear at the manor in the middle of summer?"

I shot her a sobering look, "I'm more worried about the growing whispers of air conditioning problems and the idea of slipping on random ice patches  _indoors_."

She blanched, "That hasn't...happened already, has it?"

"The former has, but not the latter," I reported and hoped it stayed that way.

She seemed somewhat relieved by that, but the tightness in her shoulders did not fully recede. "There's not really much that I can do about that."

"Perhaps, but maybe we can prevent it from getting any worse. Let's go when you're ready."

She stood up from the bed and combed through her hair with her fingers as she padded on quick and silent feet to her bathroom, "Give me twenty minutes."

"To prepare your makeup for a trek into the middle of nowhere?"I questioned somewhat incredulously.

She peered out from the doorframe with leering eyes, "I'm not exactly going to be alone out there, Kristoff." She rolled her eyes and turned, calling out to me as she did,"Could you go and check on Anna in the meantime?"

I frowned, confused and somewhat thrown by the unexpected request. "Ma'am?"

"Don't you start with that," she chided from beyond my sight.

"Sorry. Might I ask why you're suddenly worried about her?"

There was an annoyed huff, and then a pale head with a long and slender neck looked back out at me with furrowed brows. "I'm always worried about her," she answered quizzically.

I folded my arms, "You have an odd way of showing it."

"It's the best way to protect her."

"Are you referring to the distance or the lies?"

She stiffened and turned away from me, the conversation, and the subject that she was determined to avoid. "Just do it!" She yelled from across the room.

— —

Anna was a lot harder to find than I had originally anticipated, and as I wandered down the corridors and hallways questioning every staff member that I came across, I realized that in the past I had only ever encountered her either by chance or when she had herself decided that she wanted to find me.

"Were you looking for me?" a familiar voice abruptly inquired.

I whipped around and down to find her standing behind me, having apparently come from nowhere. She seemed somewhat fearful of something, with worry sewn into her brow and the edges of her lips.

I collected myself and nodded,"Yes. Are you alright?"

"I...guess so? Is everything else alright?" she rebounded. "I figured something absolutely terrible must have happened for someone to actually bother looking for me, especially if that someone was you of all people." She shivered involuntarily, "Has something happened to Elsa?"

"She..." I wondered if Elsa wanted Anna to know that she was worried. The answer was likely no, but at the same time, I realized it didn't quite matter at that moment. "She wanted me to check on you."

Confusion, surprise, and joy collided with her face in a crunching mess of freckles, red cheeks, wide eyes, scrunched brows, and twitching lips. "She- I- W-whatever for?" Her breathing had accelerated, and I suspected that her heartbeat had done the same. Her pupils dilated slowly as I looked into them.

"I don't know. She wasn't willing to say."

Anna pursed her lips, the rest of her face still stuck in emotional stasis, and absently brushed the hair out of her face before she cast her gaze downward and clutched at one of her twin plaited braids. "Well...as I said, I'm fine. So..." She looked up but stared past me at nothing in particular as a sudden offensive campaign of puzzlement claimed global supremacy over her facial territories. "Why isn't she with you?" she asked. "The two of your are practically inseparable. It's actually kinda weird."

"It's not entirely unusual for a charge to be close to her bodyguard," I found myself retorting defensively before fully realizing it.

Anna smiled wanly, "But it  _is_ entirely unusual for Elsa to be close to  _anyone_ at all." Her arms gripped at each other, "Before now, I had even begun to think that it would be downright impossible."

"That doesn't surprise me," I commented depressingly.

She nodded, and attempted yet again to sweep her bangs behind her ears, "So...nothing's wrong? All's swell? Everything's peaches- I mean peachy?"

"Um...yes."

She clasped her hands behind her back and began to stride away from me, and the makings of an immense grin were coming to life across her face, "Great! Tell Elsa I said hi!" she instructed brightly, before practically skipping backward.

I gave her a stiff and formal nod, "I will."

Her grin was unleashed fully at that, disturbed only temporarily when she stumbled across the carpet on uncoordinated feet, and she turned around to face the direction she was running in, exuding a kind of hope that, at the time, as I watched her depart, I hadn't realized she had been devoid of for years.

— —

Brisk air does wonders sometimes for clearing one's head, though I can't entirely say whether or not spending so much time around Elsa' frigid atmosphere has had the same effect. Regardless, I always felt much more alive up on the mountain. I was more alert and perceptive of everything around me from the swaying trees with their snow-laden needles and branches to the arcs of the twinkling particles of ice and snow as they swirled in specific and carefully dictated patterns in front of a concentrating Elsa with outstretched arms.

Rolling my thoughts around in my head like hands straightening a stack of important documents, I came to a settled conclusion. "I think we've been going about all of this the wrong way."

The particles fell as sleet when her focus was broken, and she looked up at me, bewildered, "What do you mean?"

"We've been doing exercises that have treated your powers like a muscle—and have most definitely exercised it quite well—but in doing so, we have failed to actually tackle the root of the problem."

Her hands had lowered and were clasped each other at her waist, "Which is?"

I swiftly took a lunging step towards her and she flinched remarkably, shutting her eyes closed, raising her hands again, and erecting a massive shield of ice before her with a vanguard of spikes that were angled towards me. "Your reflexes," I concluded.

Her eyes peeked open, and she flushed when she noticed the manifestation of her outburst.

"We need to begin by desensitizing you," I stated, advancing again.

She frowned warily, "I'm not sure if that's-" She was distracted for a moment by the spreading ice that was coating the snow before turning worried eyes back to mine, "I don't think that's a good idea."

I stopped immediately, honestly not feeling too eager about the prospect of frightening her until she no longer reacted. "Do you have an alternative suggestion then? Perhaps teaching how to thaw and melt your ice?"

She turned away, "If such a thing were actually possible, I would consider it."

I cocked my head, squinting as the wind picked up and tousled the hair that peeked out from my hood, "It might be. You  _have_  done it before, after all—granted that might have been a fluke—but we won't know for sure until we try, now will we?"

She huffed and crossed her arms, her sass additionally adding a tilt to her hips and a challenge to her gaze, "Alright then, genius, where exactly should we start?"

That was an excellent question.

"Well," I began slowly, still piecing together my thoughts, "If your ice forms whenever you're stressed or scared, maybe experiencing the opposite emotion or feeling will have an opposite effect."

She squinted suspiciously, "I'm not sure if that's how it works..."

"Neither am I, but I see no reason not to try it. So, what would be the opposite of fear and stress?"

"Being at peace, relaxed;" she answered immediately, almost mechanically. She then looked at me fully, and with her pause, I sensed that there was to be significantly more meaning behind her next words. "Feeling content."

"And when do you feel...content?"

She flushed then, and a shy smile drew it's way forth through the haze of her emotions to tense up her cheeks and crinkle her eyes with authentic happiness as she took a deep breath as her benevolent gaze stared straight into my soul, "When I'm with you."

There was again silence, just our thoughts and the whistling of the wind, with the occasional cold-braving bird that broadcasted its existence to the world with the occasional chirp. As the quiet dragged on, Elsa began to fidget uncomfortably, likely worrying that she had said the wrong thing, though if I were to listen to my heart, it was obvious that that was the farthest thing from the truth.

"Do you mean that?" I asked, my voice coming out significantly less level and neutral than I had thought it would as my body reacted to something that my mind refused to directly consider—hope.

Elsa closed her eyes, still smiling, "I do." When she opened them again, she looked down and couldn't hide her surprise when she saw that she was standing on actual soil. All of the snow and ice that had surrounded her was gone, thawed out around her in the shape of a large, six-pointed snowflake. She laughed once, and it slowly built up into a steady giggle.

I beamed, shamelessly infected by her contagious joy. "It would seem that we've had a breakthrough!"

She nodded vigorously as she rushed up to me and wrapped herself around my waist, pinning my arms to my sides, and exuding warmth for the first time in forever as I tried to return the embrace with trapped arms, feeling truly, and utterly, content.

— —

The week began to pass, and with Elsa's preoccupation with her ability to finally thaw the ice that she created, she seemed to almost entirely forget about her stress and consternation over the looming ball. She was of course brought back to reality on occasion whenever a servant would ask for her direction in accordance with the preparations for the event, but the unpleasant reminders were nothing that a little ice magic couldn't fix. That discovery was her escape, and while it could, in excess, present a potential problem in the future, I felt that it was best to let her feel—for once—at peace with herself.

There were now only eight hours until the first guests are to arrive at the manor, and I felt a familiar stirring of apprehension at the prospect of it being so frighteningly soon. My arm was no longer in its sling, but using the limb too strenuously still caused me great pain, and it likely always would unless I attempt to replace the permanently damaged bone and muscle tissue with manufactured synthetics or printed biomaterials.

Elsa's dress had arrived yesterday, and she was noticeably thrilled about it. Evidently the reason that she ultimately had it commissioned for wasn't enough to dampen her excitement over the prospect of wearing it. She did, in fact, try it on that day in her room for me to see even though I had never asked her to, and it looked even better when she was wearing it. She had stood before me proudly as the very picture of royalty with her raised chin, perfect posture, and an air of immense confidence. Though I knew she was merely putting on a facade to practice for tomorrow's event, there was no denying that the mask suited her, as fake as it actually was. The dress, on the other hand, managed to play off of both the act and the actor; the dark hues and clean-cut design appeared imposing when coupled with her assertive performance while the blue tones and the almost conservative design lent more toward the somewhat shy but surprisingly cheeky woman who wore it.

Now, in the present day, she was wearing it again, and now stood before me—not with a merry twirl or a gleaming smile, but with worried hands and wide eyes. "How is it?" she asked self-consciously.

"The same as yesterday. You look beautiful."

"Are you sure? I mean..." Her hands clenched with each other as she sighed, before looking up at me with a plea, "I'm sorry, I just..." She trailed off, but she didn't need to finish, and I nodded knowingly.

"I understand."

She returned it, and actually managed to crack a small smile; even with her nerves tying her up into strangling knots of crippling unease and flustered anxiety, I was still able to pull her back up to a place where everything made sense―or at least usually seemed to.

I leaned back, resting my weight on my hands as they pushed against the dresser behind me, "If it makes you feel any better, I'm nervous too."

She scoffed, "What of? You're not the one who has to pretend to be practically the queen of the world and greet strangers you don't know or really care about all while trying to hold back the fear that is  _literally_ trying to break through with the force of a tidal wave."

"But I  _would_ be the one forced to watch from the sidelines if that wave were to crash through. I'm not exactly going to be able to shadow you through an entire corporate ball, and leaving you unprotected makes me uneasy."

She strode towards me with an inviting smirk and a raised eyebrow, "You could still stay close if you danced with me."

I looked away, sighing through my nostrils, angry not at her bribe—as it was honestly a rather tempting suggestion—but at the telling and unwarranted flush that was creeping into my face, "I...think you know why we can't do that."

"I also think that I told you I don't care about that reason." She cocked her head to the side, "That is, of course, assuming that we're talking about..." Despite her previous, forward display, she couldn't help but look down as she remembered what had almost happened on the night that I had returned from Arendelle Central Hospital. If there were still any underlying doubts that I had about misreading what happened back then, the were vanquished entirely now.

"I'm not worth losing your job over, Elsa."

"If you're only ever going to deprecate yourself whenever you talk about how much you're worth then you are  _never_ to speak to me about it again!" The flare of anger continued to burn steadily as she glared up at me, and even as she caved and embraced me, her skin burned like frozen fire. "I care about you, and to me, you are worth  _so much more_  than you can possibly imagine. You're my only friend—and as a result, also my best friend—and I'm quite sure that I owe you my life several times over at least, so don't you  _dare_  think that you're worth anything less!"

In the wake of her tirade, I was stunned, adrift in her words and captured in the vise of her thin arms that held me fast. "Very well then, Elsa." My hand brushed itself across her head, beyond my control as it acted on either instinct or subconscious desire, and it was impossible to tell which. "But I still won't dance with you. I know you think nothing of what they will say, but I am meant to protect you, and the way I see it, that duty extends to everything else that you own and care about."

She sighed in concession as she unwrapped herself from me, resting her hands instead on my chest, and she gazed down at them, "Then you would do well to take good care of yourself." She looked up and held me with her intent and faultless eyes. "Be on your guard, Kristoff."

I smiled confidently, "I always am."

— —

Everything was ready to go, and I couldn't help but admire the efficiency of the manor staff who managed to set everything up. Elsa wasn't planning to come down until it was absolutely necessary, and so she walked the corridors, stalling as best as she could while I trailed along for a long as I could. We happened to be looking out the window when the first limousine pulled up in front. After it stopped and the valet opened the door for the vehicle's patron, a middle-aged man stepped out and prepared to head inside.

"Who's that?" I asked, somewhat curious about who had been invited to the party.

"I have no idea." Elsa replied, and she looked on as he passed out of sight through the main doors.

I frowned at her, "But didn't you insist on personally preparing the guest list?"

She sighed, exasperated, "I did, but I had no faces to put to the names. I just selected the board, all of the department heads, a few select others, and the entourage from South Isles, of course, and allowed them all to each bring an additional guest." Her gaze rolled over to settle on me with a cheeky and almost condescending smile, "You'll be happy to know that this setup was in accordance with my father's  _protocols_ for these kinds of events."

I rolled my eyes and shook my head, and eventually was drawn back to the window. I saw the limousine pull away as the valet maneuvered it away to the parking garage on the grounds, and behind it, two others had arrived, and a conspicuously purple CTV flew in from overhead.

Elsa caught my wondering gaze and followed it to the flying vehicle. "That would be Ms. Perud. I honestly don't understand her deal with purple. It's honestly rather weird." She groaned and shivered as her mind continued to dwell on the gaunt and bony skeleton of a woman and all of the unpleasantries that accompanied her presence. "I need to get ready."

"Aren't you already?" I looked her up and down, she was clad in her dress, her hair was woven into an intricate French braid that hung over her shoulder, and a layer of frost was beginning to spiderweb its way across the floor. "Oh..."

She had her eyes squeezed shut, tightly, with her shoulders stiff and her hands out as she began to breathe deeply and deliberately, dark pink lips puckering as she exhaled and widening as she inhaled again—breathing exercises that we had once tried during training. I also recalled that they didn't really help much; she had been too rigid, much like she still was now. I placed my hands on her tense shoulders, pushing them down gently to try and get her to relax them, and she stilled at my touch, inhaling sharply and sealing the air behind a tight-lipped frown. She finally let it out, and all of her tension seemed to deflate from her, or at least most of it, which was still more than I could have ever hoped for.

"Just think about whatever it was you did when you thawed the snow at the cabin, remember it and just relax."

I could've sworn she blushed at the memory. "Think happy thoughts," I added, feeling somewhat odd when I said the words, but ice then began to recede, and for a moment, her touch felt warm again. I breathed a sigh of relief, and she gave a shy smile.

"Thank you," she said sincerely, and I nodded absently.

"If you can just hold onto that throughout tonight's ordeal, you'll be fine, Elsa."

Her arms snaked around her, and her smile became unsure and somewhat grim, "let's hope so."

I turned my head back to the window one last time, and had to stifle my surprise, shock, and fear when I caught the sight of orange hair, only to subsequently realize that it was simply the Syd brothers and their father. I sighed in relief, but it was short-lived. As the father turned and beckoned toward the still-open car door, another figure stepped out and stood, also sporting a head of well-combed and well-kempt auburn hair.

I felt my insides freeze solid, and the only sound was the pumping of blood in my skull and from behind my bulging eyes.

Hans Syd was attending. He looked up, somehow met my gaze, and smiled wickedly before granting me a slight nod and following his father.

"Kristoff?"

I whipped around, startled fully, and in turn caused Elsa to flinch as well. Her eyes were filled with apprehension. "Kristoff, what's wrong?"

"It's..." I shook my head and sighed heavily, expelling everything from my mind so that I could force myself to say my next dreaded words.

"It's nothing."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mwahaha! Cliffhangers. I suppose the chapter title makes more sense now, doesn't it? See you all in two weeks! It'll be worth it :D


	13. Ballroom Blitz

Phantoms were everywhere, in the eyes of passing men, the flash of a white tuxedo, and almost every flute of quality champagne. He could be anywhere, and my mind, swirled as it was into a maelstrom of paranoia, saw fragments of him everywhere I looked. He had nearly bested us once already, and now we were in an even worse position than before. I regretted not telling Elsa about the situation, but at the same time I knew why I had to keep quiet and lie to her flawless face; her inevitable panic at the news would have most certainly collapsed her web of deception and cast the entirety of the ballroom—and perhaps even the whole estate—in her frozen fears. My ability to protect Elsa physically had to be compromised in order to protect her legacy, reputation, and future. It also meant that I would have to find—and likely confront—that smug, ice-wielding demon of a man on my own.

I couldn't find him in the crowd, but I felt that he was near with an intuitive sense that crept from my very bones, particularly the ones in my shoulder. I had already notified the rest of the estate's security to be on the lookout for the menace and informed Kai of the situation, but I haven't heard a word from anyone since.

The band played a festive tune, and all the while, I stood off to the side of the room, pacing around and searching while trying to simultaneously keep an eye on Elsa, as Syd was no doubt doing the same, watching and waiting, biding his time until I slipped up. As I continuously scanned, my perceptive gaze caught red hair and I seized, only to find that it only came from a rather uncomfortable Anna as she stood before me.

She frowned sharply with concern at the sight of me, "Woah, you don't look so good."

I sighed and disregarded her. It was just a false alarm and there were more important matters at hand.

Disconcerted by the prospect of being ignored, she shook my shoulder lightly, "Hey."

"Not now, Anna."

"What's wrong, Bjorgen?"

I didn't even bother correcting her, or apparently my tongue either as I blurted, "Hans is here."

"What?!" Her oddly strong grip whirled me around and forced me to look at her. Her eyes were wide, both extremely hopeful and disbelieving, "How can that- didn't he..." she trailed off as she realized she didn't actually know what had happened to him; the cover story was that he simply abandoned his post and was never heard from again. His family didn't even seem to care. At first I had thought that had to do with their supposed hatred towards him, but now it was clear that he had been in league with them this whole time.

"I don't know." I exhaled through my nose, "I don't know how, but he's here...and he's going to try to kill Elsa."

"Why would he...wait—why are you telling  _me_ this?"

"Because I have to find him and I need all the help that I can get!" I yelled, and then shuddered as the forbidden, speculative thoughts of failure passed through my mind's eye.

Anna put a hand on my arm. "Does she know?" she asked carefully. We both knew who she meant.

My pained grimace was my answer.

She shook her head, "I just don't understand... Why would he want to kill her? He was-"

I cut her off impatiently, "It doesn't matter. Just find him. We're wasting time just talking here."

I knew she was visibly hurt, and I would have seen it had I cared to look, but I was searching again. By some chance, I saw him making his way directly towards Elsa where she stood speaking with someone who was offering her a wrapped bottle of red wine which she was trying to tactfully decline. I took a step forward, preparing to pursue as I eyed my target with tunnel vision, but when he caught up with her, I saw that I was yet again mistaken. It was only one of the brothers—either Percy or Ron, I couldn't really tell which. He requested a dance with the pale blonde and she turned him down immediately. I looked away and exhaled audibly through my nose with clenched teeth as I seethed in my frustration, eyes again searching.

This wasn't working. This wasn't working  _at all_. A change of tactics was in order, so I began again to make my way through the crowd towards Elsa, who was thankfully heading towards a table that brought her closer to me. I met her halfway and gripped her upper arm, startling her.

"Kristoff," she gasped, caught breathless by the surprise.

I cut to the point, "I need you to come with me. Now."

She frowned, worried now, but also appearing quite hostile. Her mask was still on, and it glared back at me authoritatively, "What's the situation, Bjorgman?"

I leaned in towards her ear as I began to lead her away from the crowd and towards one of the exits, "Hans Syd is on the premises."

I braced myself against the sudden blast of cold that raised goosebumps on my arm and ruffled my hair like a breeze. Elsa's face began to shift into an expression of pure horror as the news from my brief briefing started to sink in.

We passed through the ballroom door with her arm still in my grasp and went down the hall, before ducking into a dim spare room somewhere on the right. The music from the ball could still be heard— faintly—through the thick and sturdy walls, and had changed to a slower yet more hopeful melody that could be described as almost bouncy. After I had stopped and Elsa's footing accommodated to the lack of motion, her eyes cast about the room before they revolved back to me with urgency as I finished closing the door.

"Is he here?" She asked hurriedly.

I nodded, "Somewhere yes. I saw him enter with the group from South Isles."

Her eyes squeezed shut, and her forehead dropped to rest against my chest as she tried to hide from everything around her. "You're still hiding things from me," she accused grimly.

"Don't be so pissed about it—I know there are a few important things that you haven't told me about either, things you also seem to fear I might find out about on my own."

She looked up, shocked as she realized what I was getting at, and her eyes widened. "You heard Kai and me in his office." It was not a question that she stated, astonished as she was, but the voicing of an evident conclusion.

I shrugged off-handedly, "It was impossible not to—you were yelling at him rather loudly and the door wasn't exactly thick."

She huffed and shook her head before returning to the subject at hand, "How are we going to handle Syd this time? Apparently a fall from four stories isn't far enough to kill him."

"Shall we try the roof then?" I suggested facetiously and earned a sarcastic smirk from Elsa as my reward though it didn't last long.

"Assuming that we actually have within our power the ability  _to_ end him, our best bet lies within your jacket pocket." She punctuated the last word with a purposeful jab of her pale and kempt finger at where my gun was holstered, or rather, where she assumed it was. She frowned, likely confused as to why the surface under her finger had given way more like flesh than it would have for metal.

"Other side, Elsa."

She huffed again, exasperated, "It's beside the point; we have a  _serious_ problem on our hands, Kristoff," she admonished gravely.

I nodded soberly. "I have informed Kai, the rest of the guard staff, and...Anna of the situation."

Elsa's eyes bugged out of her head, "Why would you tell her? She doesn't know about..." She looked away.

"Neither do the guards, Elsa, but they all know his face, and we could use as many eyes as we can get."

She sighed as she nodded in concession, "Very well. Considering that you neither addressed the whole body of guests nor canceled the entire ball, I assume that you are aware of the level of discretion that is needed for this?"

"Of course." I mentally traced the location of my silencer to a small pocket on the inside lining of my jacket, directly below the holster.

She stared in the direction of my chest, but at something unseen and distant, reacting already to the words she was yet to say, "Then you must realize that we can't stay in here for the entire duration of the ball. I'd give it half an hour before anyone takes notice of my disappearance, which means..." she trailed off and bit her lip.

"We don't have much time to search for him," I finished for her.

Her voice was coy, soft, "I was going to say that we might have time for one dance beforehand."

Glacier blues gazed up into amber browns, and in the ambient distance, a new song began—a waltz, slow and full of intent.

My mouth parted to speak, but I was silenced by the sensation of her soft and cool hands as they grasped mine and lifted, slowly, one outstretching up and to the side and the other guiding my hand to her waist before coming to rest on my shoulder.

I hesitated for another moment, still caught in the trap of her eyes, before steeling myself with resolve and giving a shallow nod, "Just one dance."

Elsa smiled beautifully, radiantly, and it was breathtaking. I then took a step as I led, and we began.

It was there where we stood, in a small and dimly lit room, alone but together as a ball went on off in a grand hall that was another room with its delicately powerful melody leaking into our island of solace, away from the auburn sharks in the waters of the dark and the flocking gulls in the societal lands beyond. It was there in that secluded space that I held and moved with her, my charge, my sovereign, my Elsa, and there in that moment of time when I realized fully, in a brilliant flash and a magnificent swell of acceptance and pride, that I undoubtedly and truly loved her.

When the song had eventually ended, as it was inevitably and ultimately fated to do, we broke apart from our embrace, unwilling yet voluntarily. Two rebellious points of contact remained in our hands, still linked, and resting comfortably between us. The nurturing touch of a hearth's warmth greeted me where her alabaster skin lay under my palms. I traced circles on her hands and she sighed peacefully. A familiar charge began to fill the air, and the invisible current was jumping between us, slowly drawing us together like polar opposites under the influence of magnetic force. I could see the individual shapes of her freckles while her face was inches from mine, the inerrant state of her lashes and brows as her crystalline irises were hidden by them, and the glossy and inviting texture of her lips as they began to pucker.

As a will within my heart beckoned and compelled me forward, I realized that this was the point of no return, and a brewing pool of melancholy, dyed the color of shadow and despair by a dose of reality, started to rise. Then, as my brightest and mightiest hopes began to drown in the mire of the netherworld, I remembered somberly then that it couldn't be. No matter how much I wanted it, and truly, I did, I knew that what we both so desperately desired could never be made to work and could never come to pass.

Again, I hesitated, and again, the current faded. All was quiet in my mind.

The room abruptly began to chill, and the warmth of her hands vacated instantly, replaced by a frost so cold that it burned. I winced involuntarily at the same time as my heart seized in my chest. There were frozen tears in her eyes, and she no longer cared to blink.

We were as still as statues, but her lip began to quiver, and the flush rose in her face as embarrassment and fear took hold. She squeezed her eyes closed and turned away, wrenching her hands from mine as she bolted out the double doors and disappeared to the right, leaving only ice in her wake. After all that had transpired, I was left without my voice and could not call out.

As the numbness gave way to pain, I looked down at my hands to find my palms raw and bloody. An entire layer of skin had been frozen dead and ripped away, like a tongue torn away from a frozen metal pole. I felt tears in my eyes, but they didn't fall, and they weren't from the pain—I saw that as judgment, the first punishment of many as the sentence for the breaking of a heart—my tears were for the impossible future, a hope and possibility sustained by denial, which had been dead all this time but that I only now began to mourn.

— —

After I had regained the will needed to leave the room, I followed the trail of ice that she had left in her wake, but iteventually tapered off without providing any relevant clues to her whereabouts. After what felt like a lifetime of searching, the half hour was up, and I decided to return to the ballroom, hoping that Elsa had done the same. The halls were dark and ominous as I walked them, with half of my face alternating been the shadows of the corridors and the pale, stark, glow of the moon through the paned windows, which overlayed a mesh of darkness upon the lunar light.

I reached a series of doors that would lead into the great hall and paused, resting my hands on the wood and gathering myself up. If Elsa's secret was to remain hidden, her mask was going to have to be worn tighter than ever before. Hopefully, it won't leave any permanent damage. I was also afraid that the sight of me would re-invoke those tumultuous feelings that were no doubt plaguing her. I had hurt her, but only because there was nothing that I could have done to prevent it from happening. The desire to reconcile and apologize made it all the more imperative that Hans Syd be found. I nodded to myself in agreement, and with a deep breath, shoved open the doors, donned my own mask and strode into the room.

The party was still going, and hardly anyone had left. The only real difference lay in their less-coordinated movements, their slurred speech, and louder, bolder voices. I scanned the crowd, finding several familiar faces; Ms. Perud, Kronk, a staff member, and a short, thin and weasely figure of a man who was aptly named Mr. Wesselton. There was, however, no sign of Elsa, and as I further noticed, no sign of any of the Syd family.

I did, however, find to my surprise that Anna was there and  _smiling._ She was grasping someone's hand and leading them, though through the heads of the crowd, I couldn't see who it was. She too was looking for someone, and at last caught sight of them, leading her grin to widen. I turned toward where she was looking, praying that it was whom I hoped it was, and to my utmost relief, it was. Elsa was standing near the edge of the room, speaking with an older man who had clearly been drinking too much wine, though, from the look of things, it was very likely a one-sided discussion. I sighed as the majority of my prior anxiety left me, for I had feared that she wouldn't have returned. Feeling compelled by something unknown to me, I looked up again at Anna and the person next to her and froze, shocked and confused, at the sight of Hans on the arm of my charge's sister.

Elsa hadn't noticed yet; she was thoroughly preoccupied with her efforts to get away from her inebriated conversation partner, wading ineffectively through the muddy swamps of etiquette and social convention. I looked back at Hans, the threat, and he saw me as well, giving me a confident smile and a wink. It became a race then, a race to see who would be the first to reach her—my charge, his target, my patron, and the threat he sought to purge. As we began, it didn't take me very long at all to realize that I would be deathly too late.

Anna arrived first, coming forward excitedly into Elsa's space and causing her to lean back away from her. Her eagerness graciously, but likely also inadvertently, placed her in between Syd and her sister, delaying him. For his part, he seemed rather unfazed by this obstruction, and in fact looked rather...jubilant. I was almost upon them, and through the cacophony of voices and music, Anna finally came into earshot as she comfortably leaned into Syd with a gut-curdling level of familiarity. I noticed that her hair seemed somewhat disheveled and that her dress was creased oddly, accompanied by a glowing flush in her cheeks, "We would like-"

Syd cut in, "Your blessing-" The pair now leaned in further and clasped their hands together as they grinned like fools at a terrified Elsa and finished declaring in unison, "of our marriage!"

Right then, I nearly stumbled and crashed into a passing waiter, so thrown by that absurd and impossible revelation that I was physically caught off-balance. Syd was the enemy, and not to mention that he and Anna hardly even knew each other! Why the hell would she want to marry a man she had just met?!

"I-I'm sorry, I'm confused," Elsa stuttered, still reeling and equally discombobulated by the news. Her watery blue eyes nervously flicked back and forth between her heel-bouncing sister and the damned assassin who was apparently now the bubbly redhead's  _fiance_. I felt more goosebumps rise on my skin, accompanying the ones that were probably already there from Syd's appearance, though these new ones were likely coming from the sudden telling chill in the room.

Anna smiled dreamily as she shrugged, eyes turning skyward as the perused her arising thoughts, "Well, we haven't worked out all the details ourselves; we'll need a few days to plan the ceremony—of course, we'll have soup, roast and ice cream, and then-" she stopped with a gasp as her eyes widened, in time with her open-mouthed grin, and she turned around excitedly to gaze adoringly at Syd, "Would we live here?"

" _Here?"_ Elsa practically squeaked voice quiet and clearly abhorrent to the very idea of it, and for a moment, the true extent of her mounting fear was exposed. Again, the temperature plummeted, and now a few of the drunken guests were beginning to notice, their shivers accompanied by inarticulate murmurs about problems with the air conditioning.

Syd smiled radiantly—he was such a brilliant actor that it was sickening—managing even to capture that infatuated sense of intimacy that only had its place behind closed doors, and in this case, nowhere at all. He clasped Anna's hands as he looked into her eyes excitedly, "Absolutely!" he cried, masterly feigning joy.

Elsa tentatively stretched out a hand, "Anna-"

"Oh! We can invite all twelve of your brother to stay with us!" Syd's joyousness wavered for a moment and Elsa shook her head rapidly in disagreement, murmuring her dissent, but Anna still went on, "Of course we have the room—I don't know, some of them must-"

"Wait, slow down!" Anna whipped around, finally silenced momentarily and looking almost startled. Elsa caught her breath, "No one's brothers are staying here, and no one is getting  _married_!" Her eyes flipped worriedly at Syd, who seemed rather unperturbed. A smirk crossed his face from behind his fiancée's back.

Anna's brows furrowed and her eyes squinted in a familiar expression of confusion and disheartenment. "Wait, what?"

Some of the other guests were beginning to notice the scene, and Elsa saw how much of a spectacle they were making. She swallowed nervously and tried her best to appear formidable, turning back to Anna with queenly grace and poise. "May I talk to you, please?  _Alone?_ " Elsa inquired, her tone suddenly icy. She had taken a step forward, and her hands, now nervously—and probably involuntarily—wringing with one another, were clutched at her chest.

Anna exhaled, almost offended, and Elsa and I stiffened at the actual sight of her breath. The young woman glanced at her fiance, who was again wearing his mask of endearment that was now cast into confusion and concern, before she turned back to Elsa with a little more resolve, visible in the tight, pursed set of her lips. "No. Whatever you have to say, you-" she tenderly hooks her arm around Syd's, "You can say to  _both_  of us."

Elsa huffed arrogantly, her chin raised and her narrowed eyes unforgiving. "Fine. You can't marry a man you just met." My thoughts exactly.

"You can if it's  _true love_!" Anna whined petulantly, insistantly.

Elsa shook her head condescendingly with a sad smile, "Anna, what do you know of 'true love?'"

"Wh- Well more than you! All you know is how to shut people out and rule them through submission!"

Elsa visibly bristled along with the skin on my arms as the hairs stood on end in a futile attempt to keep warm, and I suspected everyone elses' did the same. A faint crackling sound made itself known in the room. Elsa's voice was level and cold, like a frozen lake, "You asked for my blessing, but my answer is no. Let go of Syd." She spun on her heel and proceeded to leave with noticeable haste. She's kept her act up well, but something in her hurried breathing was giving something away, hinting that something was very, very wrong. Her eyes snapped authoritatively to mine, and within them was a hidden plea, a sincere and honest cry for help, "Bjorgman."

I came forward swiftly, but again Anna was faster, "Elsa, no! Wait-"

Elsa was jerked back as Anna grabbed her hand, and with a grimace she yanked her hand away, but gasped at the sight of her naked palm. She whipped around at Anna, unleashing the storm of her gaze upon her as she roared, "Give me my glove!"

Elsa tried futilely to snatch it, but Anna refused to relent it, clutching it to her chest as if it were her own precious child, "Elsa, please! I can't live like this anymore!"

Again Elsa lunged, and this time successfully snatched the glove from her sister before jamming it back onto her hand and flexing her long fingers as she glared frigidly back at Anna, "Then  _leave_. No one's forcing you to stay."

It was Anna's turn now to be physically stunned. The look of betrayal and pain on her face was too much for the ice queen, and she turned away to begin retreating, likely to her study if she was adhering to her habits.

"What did I ever  _do to you?!_ "

I turned back around toward the agonized cry to find Anna in tears with her face screwed up in anguish and her hands clutching her heart as if it were tearing to pieces inside of her.

" _Enough, Anna."_  Elsa is growling through clenched teeth, voice low and rough with exertion, as if she was holding something back.

"Oh no..." the utterance had escaped my lips in a whisper, and from the corner of my eye, I saw Syd smiling again, triumphantly,  _victoriously._

"No!" Anna was adamant, and took a purposeful step forward, "Why? Why did you shut me out? W-Why did you shut  _the world_  out?" Another step, " _What are you so afraid of?!"_

I could feel the wind of a wintry gale against the back of my neck, rushing by as if the world itself was inhaling sharply, collecting and building around Elsa like a storm surge.

The ice queen whipped around with a hand raised as if to slap before waving it across herself, "I said  _enough!"_

The blast was like thunder, not unlike that fateful day from over four weeks ago. Hail, sleet, and wintry air exploded outward like a tsunami and ridges—no, dagger-like mountains—of solid ice erupted from the floor as pillars and blades, cracking the floor and sending pieces of it airborne as they burst up from it. The hyperborean knives pierced through the limbs of a few unlucky patrons and almost skewered one man through the gut. Everyone else was either thrown into the air or at least send stumbling by the blast. Even as the people settled and tried to regain their footing, the storm didn't stop; it had finally been unleashed, and it was showing no sign of relenting, instead drawing more strength and continuously seeking and claiming vengeance upon the dark and unforgiving world that had brought the manifested stress and anxiety to life.

"Elsa!" Anna was standing again, ruffled and startled, but relatively unharmed except for a small gash on her forehead. Her countenance was identical to that of Sven's final expression as she beheld the chaos around her and the terrified blonde woman who stood amongst it all.

Elsa turned and ran again, sprinting from the hall as I pursued with urgency. "Elsa!"

"Monster! Witch! Somebody stop her!" A whiny and somewhat aged voice was yelling, and I could only guess that it was coming from Wesselton. I whipped around and noted that he, Hans, and four suspicious goons that were presumably the weasely old man's henchmen were also following. We all slipped and half of us fell on our first steps, as the floor was suddenly covered with ice. Aided by the frozen surface, Elsa sped ahead of us, discarding her heels as she went and continuing forward on bare, naked feet.

One of the henchmen began to draw his gun, and despite the frosty blues around me, all I saw was red. I was upon him before he had even fully extended his arm and dispatched him quickly, snatching his gun from his startled hand and pistol-whipping him across the temple with it. I then rolled away, sliding simultaneously, as the others fired at me and whipped out my own gun. Once I came upright again, now with both guns held akimbo, I blasted the rail and bullet rounds into their chests, sending them to the ground on their backs.

More mercenearies, or whatver they were, were flowing in through the external doors, fighting with and slowly overpowering the rest of the manor's elite guard; their morale was likely severely weakened and I couldn't really blame them for it as I struggled to stand up on the nearly frictionless surface below me. I heard the doors burst open behind me and turned to see a head of white-blond hair disappear through it. Elsa was escaping

With a curse and a final burst of speed, I took off towards the hall Elsa had disappeared down and slid as bullets whizzed by overhead. I managed to spin around and get a few shots off before I passed over the threshold, falling hard onto my back and tumbling as the ice gave way to hardwood. I jumped up to my feet and managed to close the doors and brace myself against them as I tapped out the general lock key on a security panel hidden in the wall. Not a moment later, several bodies slammed hard into the other side of the sealed portcullis, jarring it and me. I managed to breath a small sigh of relief before an even greater rumbling sounded from overhead. Without further warning, the ceiling above me exploded in a cloud of dust and splinters as a pillar blasted down through it and burrowed straight into the ground in front of me. I had to cover my eyes from the shockwave and the raining, hostile droplets of debris, shards of sharp wood and granite. When it had cleared, I wasted no time in rushing ahead to find the nearest staircase. If my hunch and intuition were correct—and there were countless scenarios from my multiple tours of duty to suggest that they were—the icy madness around me would be emanating from around Elsa. Unfortunately, that would also likely mean things were going to get colder and deadlier the closer I got to her. I pushed on without hesitation.

— —

The walls were pitted and cracked, and with each passing rumble in the distance, they widened and grit fell from the ceiling.  _The whole damn place is falling apart..._  I muttered fearfully and inwardly as I made my way to one of the manor's many hidden service stairwells. Another shard blasted from the ceiling and loosed a chunk of the ceiling that I narrowly escaped from.

To my relief, the door to the staircase was unobstructed along with the flights of steps themselves. The mansion shook again, almost as if it were urging me not to tarry, and I began to ascend. She must have gone to her room—I couldn't think of any other place where she felt safe besides her study, but that was downstairs. As I opened the door from the stairwell to the second floor, I was met by a blast of arctic wind and swirling sleet and snow as a raging blizzard stormed within. The pillars and shards sprouted laterally now, which was much a bad sign as it was a good one. I was on the right floor finally, but was now forced to walk directly in the middle of the crumbling halls and deteriorating corridors for fear of further of being impaled, sidestepping and vaulting over patches of ice and gaps in the wooden floor.

As I stepped on a seemingly innocent rug, I was almost led to my death, as the floor beneath it was missing, causing the sheet to give way and send me into the unforgiving ground, which was stiff enough already from its sturdy composition and hardened even further by the plummeting temperatures. With a groan, I tried to prop myself onto my elbows, pulled onward by the anxious fear tied to the ticking clock of doom that counted down to both utter failure and a frigid, slow and painful death for everyone on the premises. When I lifted my eyes from the carpeted rug to the hallway beyond, I noticed a strange trail of ice in the intersection up ahead and scrambled up to approach it on swift but cautious feet.

Upon closer inspection of the frozen path, I noticed that it had a series of alternating dips in it, surrounding by procedural fractal shards and frost patterns, and it was then that I realized the indentations were in fact footprints. Elsa's footprints.

I cast my gaze around, searching, and couldn't be gladder for the discovering the path when I did; The ice had overtaken so much of the interior surfaces of the rooms and hallways that I could not recognize where I was. With another glance at the trail to determine what direction the prints going were in, I set off beside it at a dead sprint.

I was getting closer, I knew it; the frost was becoming even more vicious, icicles and spires now crept along the edges, both where the walls met the ceiling and where the also met with the floor. It was all beginning to take on a cave-like appearance, like a savage, frozen womb, and if I tried, I could have easily convinced myself that this wasn't even the manor at all.

"Elsa!" My voice echoed throughout, but there was no response from her. I honestly don't know what I expected. The trail had disappeared, overtaken by the snow and flat layer of ice that had built up on the floor without my knowing. It was at least a quarter of a meter deep where I stood, and my shoes, my socks, and the lower half of my pants were soaked and cold; the cloth and synthetic material becoming stiff with frost and the flesh that they bound was beginning to go go numb. I could feel the chill and the air draining the rest of my morale and stamina away, and while the flame of hope continued to burn brightly, it might not end up being enough.

With hardly any warning other than a deep echoing warble, a javelin of ice as thick around an outdoor garbage can shot down diagonally through the ceiling like a meteor, startling me, cutting through my jacket, and giving me a long gash down my back. I hissed and forced myself onward as more ice began to pierce the rumbling cavern, running blindingly in a storm as fast as I could manage with feet I couldn't feel and occasionally slipping on ice hidden beneath the snow. With resounding force, I was met with an impact from the front and flung onto my back, cracking some of the ice with a grunt and a groan. Upon recovering, I realized that what I had run into was in fact not a pillar, but the elevator doors. At last! A point of reference!

With my bearings regained, I attempted to map out the floor and set out again with renewed hope, calling her name as I went in the futile hope that she would hear me. I could no longer see the doors in the hallway, but if my habits and muscle memory served me, I was assuredly in the right place. Coming close the edge and peering through the refracting ice, hoping that I wouldn't be skewered on an icicle before I had a chance to dodge it, I searched each door. After the third distorted rectangle of mahogany, I began to despair, but then finally encountered one in white. I thanked God that it was a different color from the rest.

Opening it proved to be challenging, but it was nothing compared to what I had gone through to get here. A few tackles and sharp kicks led it to crack wide enough for me to begin prying the layers of ice off with hands so cold that they ached and burned like fire. With the wood finally exposed again to the air, I tried the handle. It was locked. Another barreling tackle took care of that and sent me rolling into the room once the hinged barrier gave way.

The ice was prevalent in here too, but luckily not as much as outside, and unlike the aggressive and violent patterns it had manifested in the hallways and beyond, the frosty solids in here seemed much more defensive, almost protective. Thick layers formed walls and the only spikes that were there jutted out as attempts to deter those who would wish to tread forward. I struggled against the force of the swirling wind from beyond and shut the door behind me, casting the room into an eerie quiet. Turning back around to it, I took the time to search more critically.

"Elsa?" I called loudly. I couldn't see her, but after giving the strange spherical bubble of ice around the bed a closer look, I saw it for what it really was. A cradle.

I punched out some of the ice like a frozen windshield, and through it, and a cloud of glowing blue swirls that in all honesty seemed to be made more of magic than of ice, I saw her. She was curled up in the fetal position at the center of the bed, facing away from me and shivering and heaving with silent sobs. I wasn't even sure if she knew I was there.

"Elsa..." I reached out for her and flinched violently when I felt that she was surprisingly colder than the maelstrom around her. With more resolve, I reached for her again and lightly shook her shoulder. "Elsa." My voice was more urgent, but she still didn't respond. I turned her over onto her back and gasped aloud with an involuntary step back as I beheld her. She was blue in the face. The ice queen was freezing to death.

A mix of instinct, training, military disciple, and a surprisingly comprehensive amount of chemistry that I happened to remember set me immediately into action. I broke away most of the rest of the icy bubble and gathered her chilling form in my arms, bracing against the burning pain of the effort. A wayward thought in the back of my mind wondered if this what what liquid nitrogen felt like. I headed for her bathroom, kicking open the doors, and placing her on a small wicker loveseat before engaging in a series of last-ditch and likely entirely futile actions. I turned on and maxed out the space heater in the room, relieved that it still worked, and did the same on the room's thermostat panel. Next, I turned on the tub, the shower, and the sinks and set them as hot as the could go before opening all the cabinets and pattering around as I searched for a few key things or at least some valid substitutes. I ended up with baking soda, an unexpected bag of pure sea salt, actual bath salts, and rubbing alcohol. Water's freezing point could be lowered through the introduction of dissolved foreign particles including sugar, salt, and alcohol. I poured some of the contents of my loot into the sinks and then dumped the rest into the tub, rolling up my sleeves and swirling them around within the waters.

At the most, I reflected somberly, this might manage to buy us a little more time before we reached the inevitable end; The fact that this whole storm, this  _crash_ , had been going on even with Elsa in this unconscious and incapacitated state made it painfully clear and obvious that this disaster was not going to abate any time soon...if at all.

As I waited for the tub to finish filling, I looked across the room at Elsa where she lay. I saw that her eyes were again bound shut by frozen tears, and from both the amount that had streamed down her face and the small amount of mucus visible in her nostrils, I could tell that she had been sobbing her heart out. It had been the unrestrained and ugly crying of grief, when you've lost everything and nothing else seems to matter anymore, so you cry because there's nothing else you can do. Her mouth was open as she breathed quickly like a small panicked animal. I realized it was likely because she couldn't breathe through her nose anymore.

Once the waters from the large tub began to run over with scalding heat and the rising steam started to turn the winterscape of the room into a makeshift sauna, I gathered Elsa's cold, shivering body into my arms and stepped across the room, splashing in the warm water that had overflowed from the sinks and tub, and sank down into the deep jacuzzi with her, tucking down as if in a bomb shelter, but this time now truly in a Cold War. As I felt the warmth of the waters seep into my clothes, my flesh, and my bones, and felt Elsa's shivers lessen as she slowly calmed, I actually thought for a moment that we might actually survive this thing after all, realizing that we might really have a chance.

The water stopped abruptly.  _Fuck! The water main must have frozen!_ The moment of hopeful brightness was over and I repeatedly swore, both out loud and quietly within. My arms clenched and wrapped harder around Elsa. She was still unconscious. Perhaps that was for the best. Soon after, the lights went out as the power was compromised by the malevolent force of the ice. With all the wreckage that it caused, I wouldn't have been surprised if it was giving more support to the building than the remnants of the edifice itself.

With nothing to continually counteract it, the steam dissipated and condensed, settling as beads on exposed skin, and as it went on, they froze where they settled. The only gaseous water left in the room was that which emanated from our breaths. I could feel the water in the tub chilling and heard the crackle of the ice outside. It was quiet, deceptively peaceful. I knew that the moment the room and the doors gave way to the sub-zero blizzard beyond, we would be finished. I clutched Elsa tightly, trying my best to smother her in my body heat. My fingers were numb and pale, almost blue at the tips as a stroked through platinum-blond hair.

I thought back over the day, over the night. So much had happened in so many ways and all of it in a matter of hours. Just five minutes ago, I stood in a ballroom in a world of dances, figurative masks, and sophisticated rules of society, and now I lay on my back, clutching the unconscious woman that I loved to my chest as we lay fully clothed in a bathtub, freezing to death in a blizzard-ravaged crypt that was now more cavern than mansion as we waited for the end.

The water began to ripple as the world rumbled, and the bottle of rubbing alcohol fell from the sink as it was dislodged with the force of an earthquake. I planted a final and lingering kiss on Elsa's forehead and closed my eyes as the tremors reached a crescendo, and in an explosive blast of cold, shrapnel, debris, and glass, I blacked out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We’re not done yet. In fact, we’re actually just getting started. This was just part one. Also, if you’re curious about Kristoff’s exploits with the salt and all that, I actually did a little research to accompany my little idea for that. “For every mole of foreign particles dissolved in a kilogram of water, the freezing point goes down by roughly 1.7-1.9°C. Sugar, alcohol, or other salts will also lower the freezing point and melt the ice.” That range in Fahrenheit, if you’re interested, is roughly 3-3.4°F. Even with the vast amount of “foreign particles” that he introduced, it’s not surprising that it didn’t hold out long. If you still want more information on that for some reason, here's a link http://antoine.frostburg.edu/chem/senese/101/solutions/faq/why-salt-melts-ice.shtml
> 
> See you in two weeks!


	14. The Crash

**Part Two—Fryse**

* * *

 

The evening sun cast its dwindling rays through the large storefront windows of the small and quaint coffee shop. The tables inside were all empty and had their chairs stacked atop them, upside-down. It was closing time.

"Why don't you go on home, Punzy dear? You've been here for far long, ya?"

The forest-eyed blonde turned from her sweeping and smiled a kind smile at her mountain of a boss as she tried to hide her exhaustion, "It's fine, Oaken, I don't mind, really."

He frowned softly, concern etched into his round, bearded face, "Are you sure? You look ready to drop on your feet! I can finish here. Run on home, Rapunzel."

Rapunzel sighed, and turned her attention back to the broom and the surprisingly dirty hardwood floor, which was littered with cocoa powder and half-crushed coffee beans among other things. She smiled again as she continued to work, and it was wistful and bemused. "It may sound kind of strange, but it often feels like this place  _is_  home."

Oaken's eyes widened with self-conscious worry, "Are your hours too long then? If it's taking a toll, we could arrange something, ya?"

She shook her head wildly, trying to placate him, "No, no it's not that, I just mean-"

A loud and sudden crack interrupted them, cutting her off mid-sentence. Their heads both instinctively snapped around toward the intrusive sound to find that a wavering spiderweb of cracks had appeared in the bulletproof glass of the rightmost storefront window.

The bell over the door tinkled, startling them both yet again—they had been so transfixed by the damage to initially notice the out-of-breath man as he came in from the left. He stumbled as he tried to slow himself down and rested his weight on the nearest table as he attempted to catch his breath, downcast face hidden behind loose, dark brown hair. The air that had passed in around him flew forward in an oddly chilling breeze.

Rapunzel's face lit up as she recognized the man, and for a moment, everything else seemed to fall away as she beheld him. "Eugene!" She ran to him, ignoring her broom in her haste before passing the counter and unexpectedly tripping into his arms as her feet snagged on something. He barely caught her and sagged from the weight of her falling body with a grunt as he helped her stand.

""Hey, be careful, blondie," he admonished compassionately with a quick smile before glancing over her shoulder at the disturbed length of exceptionally long golden-blonde hair that extended and wound its way out of sight behind the counter. He frowned with worry. "You weren't wearing you braid?"

Rapunzel shook her flushed head, "No. The shop's closing up right now, so I didn't really see the point." She looked up at him earnestly as she caressed the fading and discolored cuts and bruises that still stood out on the side of his face. She knew that his line of work was dangerous—in fact, it was basically one of the only things she knew for sure about it—but it never ceased to bother her. "Did you see someone throw something outside?"

Eugene frowned and looked around, gaze settling on the cracked window. Rapunzel heard his sharp intake of breath, but only he felt his bones as they went rigid with tension. It was then that he remembered why he had come to that place and with such haste. "No, I didn't," he replied, "but I think I know what's happening. We all need to leave,  _now._ "

Oaken perked up from the back "What's going on?"

Eugene grimaced as he shook his head, "Something big and something...wrong, but other than that I don't really know. I just feel..." he cast his gaze back to the outdoors. Stray litter was beginning to skip along from the persistent prodding of powerful winds. "That there's dark magic in the air..."

Another crack caught their attention, on the left window now, and then another on the right again, and another after that, and as they came faster and faster, randomly now, the glass began to sag, barely holding together as the cracks continued to intersect and make the shards of glass smaller and smaller. All at once, they all gave out, spilling glass into the room as its occupants shielded their eyes. Eugene stepped in front of Rapunzel, blocking her from the transparent torrent with his body with tightly shut eyes. They were all now exposed to the outside air, and cold, harsh winds burst inward as more impacts followed, now landing on the floor inside of the establishment.

Oaken was the first to uncover his eyes, and as they saw what lay before them, they widened as far as his head could manage. "Gods above..."

Hail, with sizes ranging between those of softballs and watermelons, littered the floor amongst the glass. Some of them were rounded while others were jagged like brutal shards, and more were coming in.

"Eugene, Punzy!" Oaken's voice boomed, now as great in volume as he was, "Get in the back, quickly, both of you!" Ironically broken from his fearful trance, Eugene grasped Rapunzel by the hand and tugged her after Oaken as she scrambled to gather up her hair. They reached the door at the same time as Oaken's husband, Anders; he was trying to figure out what all the noise was about, but upon seeing the wrath of winter as it expressed its fury over Oaken's shoulder, he yelped and spun around, rushing back inside almost immediately with the others on his heels.

Eugene bolted the door closed behind them as they stood clustered around near the back. Anders was trembling, and next to him stood Peter, the Trading Post's newest employee, who was both confused and beginning to panic. He strode forward insistently towards the flushed and rattled newcomers, "What the bloody hell is going on out there? A blizzard like this in  _July_?"

"It isn't a natural storm," Eugene began, his face grave and vulnerable with fear, "it's  _hers_."

"Hers?" Oaken repeated, worried as he attempted to comfort his spouse.

Eugene's teeth gritted against each other. "I knew it all along, but I didn't want to admit it to myself, hoping instead that by some scrap of the imagination I was  _wrong_. But there's only one explanation for this, and there's only one woman who could have caused it."

"Enough of the drama, Eugene! This is no time for your charismatic shit!" Peter cried. "Spit it out already!"

Eugene exhaled deeply, steeling himself with closed eyes. "Elsa Arendelle, CEO of Frost Industries and also the Ice Witch, is apparently now the Snow Queen."

— —

I've never felt so damn cold in my life, not even since I've met Elsa; this feeling now came from within as well as from beyond. It left me stiff and sluggish, both physically and mentally, and the immense effort required to open my eyes was as draining and taxing as a fully-sprinted marathon. I almost blacked out again as I tried to scan my surroundings. It was dim, wherever I was, and what I could see was just a slanted and smooth surface, tinted blue and disrupted only by a thin, deep fissure that ran along it, diagonally from my point of view. I guessed I was on the floor but couldn't muster the will or strength needed to turn my head and check. I tried to exhale and was jerked sharply as I coughed involuntarily, sending stabbing daggers of pain throughout my body. An ominous cloud of fog rise above me.

I heard shuffling, followed by the skittering of some sort of particulate matter as the source of the noise approached. The first thing that hit me was the smell, pleasant and calming like mint but combined with the unique scent of saffron. The next was a soft, feminite voice.

"Hey. Hey, you're okay, Kris. It's alright."

No one's ever called me Kris before—not even my own mother. The figure, whoever she was, was gazing down at me with pure benevolence in her eyes.  _An angel,_  my foggy and cliche-friendly brain thought, stunned with awe and immobilized by fatigue and whatever else it was that was wrong with me. As my vision slowly cleared, I saw her pale skin, which appeared sallow in the low-level lighting. It was also blemished by dust, shallow scratches, and dark, telling stains of something ominous on her forehead and in her hair, though it was too dim to identify the color of them. She was smiling at me as if she hadn't seen me in years or as if she hadn't ever expected to ever see me again at all; it was hard to tell which. To put it simply, there was undeniably love in her gaze, her sentiments manifested further by her unabashed smile and the soft hand that began to caress my cheek. She felt so warm. A few cold tears had fallen onto my face and she wiped her eyes and my face with her other hand. Her fingers came away darker and with a hint of red. I was too tired to react to the sight of it.

She beamed cheekily, though the expression's brightness was subdued by some sort of global melancholy, "I honestly don't know how, but you're okay."

I finally found my voice and realized that though it was both rough and raspy, it was still audible, "I should say the same to you."

She broke our eye contact shyly. "Can you sit up?"

"No," I croaked honestly; It was taking all my energy just to speak, breathe, and blink.

Her brows furrowed in that familiar way, this time with concern as she regarded me for a moment, seeming at a loss for what to do.

"What happened, Elsa?" I asked, suddenly becoming desperate for answers as lucidity started to take hold, and I began to remember what little pieces of the past event that I knew of. The ball, Syd, Anna's engagement, and then ice, ice and darkness; plenty of whats but with hardly any whys to accompany them.

Elsa bit her lip and looked down at her lap as her hands returned to it and began to wrangle one another. "I couldn't do it," she murmured dejectedly. I waited for her to elaborate, but she just sniffled, saying nothing more. With a sudden, grieving groan, she tucked in on herself, burying her face in her gathered knees and hiding the rest of her head behind filthy, pale-blonde curtains of matted hair as she began to sob.

I wanted to comfort her, to say all the kind and placative things one would normally say to someone who was trying to fight Atlas and carry all of the blame in the world on their shoulders, but I held my tongue; as seemingly harsh as it was to admit it, this really was Elsa's fault. It was her ice that lay the manor to ruin. It could have been caused by someone else's provocation, one might comment, but that in turn could be the result of a similar matter, and so on, forming a recursive chain of pointed fingers leading everywhere but nowhere, and it hardly even mattered; Elsa wouldn't believe it anyway. She would hang on to the responsibility all on her own as she had done for nearly every aspect of her life. It was just her way.

As I have learned through my series of previous hardships, when one can see nothing down in the deep, murky waters of the past, one must instead look upward, past the surface, and to the sky of the future that lay above. We needed to keep moving forward. "Have you found a way out?"

She didn't respond. My fatigue must have reduced my usual volume to a rasping whisper.

"Elsa, have you found a way out of here?"

She shook her head this time, "Everything is sealed in the hallway past the bedroom, one way with rubble, and the other with...ice."

"Have you not been able to melt it?"

She stared at me impassively with a tear-stained gaze, accented garishly by dark smudges and the tendrils left behind by mascara and angst. I don't know why I even bothered to ask.

"Perhaps you could just break through it with more ice?" I recommended warily. She visibly bristled at the suggestion, and as tense as she suddenly seemed, I was rather surprised that she didn't have spines of ice rising around her.

Elsa's hands returned to their nervous fidgeting. "As you can probably imagine, I don't feel very comfortable with the idea of using my powers right now." An understandable statement.

I somehow managed to smirk, "Which is somewhat ironic, as you seem to have much more control over them now than you ever have before." She frowned, looking at me strangely as if I were spouting nonsense. With a sobering chill, I realized that it was probably her fear reigning it in, as it was still, it seems, her greatest motivator for anything. Would there ever be a way to change that? "If our situation is as you said it is, then we don't really have many any other options, unless of course you are particularly partial to the idea of starving to death down here all alone."

That brought a small smile out of her. "But I'm not alone," she countered gently. Her hand reached out to brush my hair out of my eyes before caressing my head.

"Is there any specific reason why I can't move, Elsa?"

Her ministrations stopped and she sighed, looking to her right towards my legs. I sighed as well as I watched her. "I'm stuck, aren't I?"

She closed her eyes and straightened. "Yes." Her voice was flat, and her lips were pursed grimly.

I rolled my eyes at my luck, "Classic..."

She shook her head again, grinning despite herself, "You're awfully aloof about all of this."

I craned my neck down, trying to lift my head and see, straining all the while. "Call it a coping mechanism," I retorted through a groan. She saw what I was trying to do and reached behind me to help me try to sit up. She had to support all of my weight as I could hardly move my arms. I examined myself, starting with my chest and moving down. I was shirtless, oddly, with a couple patches of gauze visible from where Else must have attempted to perform first aid on various injuries across my body, and I was upset by the fact that she had neglected to do the same for herself, but everything past my knees..."Oh," was hidden from view by a fallen cascade of rubble. "That's a problem."

"And it's not the only one," Elsa groaned. She then glared and slapped my thigh aggressively before whirling on me with concerned fury, "Why in the world did you think it would be a good idea to submerge yourself in a fucking  _bathtub_  whenthe _entire room was freezing over?_ "

"I made measures to try and prevent it from freezing, and if that wasn't going to be enough, well, there wasn't much else that I would've been able to do about it."

"You should have jumped out the window with me."

I frowned at her incredulously, "We're on the second floor."

"That's not terribly far—well ok, maybe you'd break a leg or two—though if you had done that we also wouldn't be stuck in here. Not to mention that both of your calves are probably crushed right now..."

"It doesn't feel like it."

She sighed heavily, now brushing her own hair from her eyes, "That's probably from all the blood loss. Or something worse." She grimaced.

"What-" I looked down again and saw a worrisome amount of crimson fluid all over the floor. A lot of it had hardened in the frigid air and as a result, I had first mistaken it for some sort of generic grime. "We really need to get out of here," I reaffirmed. My eyes shifted back to Elsa, squinting critically, "Are you still  _uncomfortable_ about using your powers now?"

Elsa squirmed at my slight against her, and I felt a little guilty for snapping like I did. She looked at me cautiously, asking for permission, confirmation, and reassurance all at the same time. I nodded. The roles were reversed now; it was her turn to save me.

She turned to the obstacle of rubble, inhaled deeply with her hands splayed at her sides, palms up, and released it all in a burst, pushing upward as a thick spire of ice formed, slowly tipping and shoving the rubble off of me, revealing grit, small rocks, more blood, and the full extent of my injuries. The pants were in pretty bad shape, but through all the tears and holes, I could see that my legs were mangled, though luckily still in one piece—what a strange time to suddenly become an optimist. Elsa's subsequent gasp was cut off by a sob and she clutched at my hand, shutting down. It was all proving to be too much for her.

"Elsa, hey, come on, we can't dwell on this. We have more work to do before we can see the light of day. Help me up if you can, please." With trembling hands, she complied as best as she could, and as my legs slid on the floor, I finally felt the first part of the pain. I winced terribly and ground my teeth against the burning, abrasive agony, but I also met it with relief; life is pain, and thus pain can serve as a reminder that we are alive. I felt that I had heard those words from someone else long ago. Perhaps it was from back in the army.

With great effort, I tried to stand. I was wobbly, but to my relief and surprise my damaged legs still held my weight. Perhaps they just looked worse than they actually were. Hopefully.

Leaning heavily on Elsa and shuffling along with her, we made away from the ruins of the bathroom and proceeded through a hole directly into what I assumed was the hallway. The larger volume and its cracks allowed a frigid wind to blow through it, raising the bumps on my skin like soldiers at attention. "Where's my shirt?" I asked, grieving its absence as I stood shivering.

"Bloody, frozen, and in tatters, same as your jacket. I have your gun with me." I glanced over at her in confusion and suddenly noticed that she had changed clothes; she must have still had access to her wardrobe. She was currently wearing a white linen blouse and a pair of tight, whitewashed jeans that I had never seen before along with black winter boots. "Do you know how to shoot it?" I asked, noticing the trigger and grip sticking out of the back of her waistband.

Elsa shrugged as best as she could in her position, "I understand the process, but I have no actual experience with it."

My eyebrows raised in stunned surprise, "Really?"

She flushed a little as she began to disclose, "Yes. I had read at least half of my parent's library and way too many Wikipedia articles in my isolated childhood, but I've had no experience doing or working with practically any of the things that I had researched other than business and architecture."

"I see." I was still feeling rather cold. "I suppose none of your clothes would fit me?"

She scoffed playfully, "I hadn't ever expected you to turn to cross-dressing!"

I smirked, "I haven't, but unlike you, the rest of us actually get cold sometimes."

She laughed, "Well to answer your question, no, I don't have anything that's nearly your size." She started giggling uncharacteristically, which isn't to say that it wasn't endearing, and it soon expanded into a full-on, unrestricted laugh—I think she might have even snorted at point. She was now hanging off of me as much as I had been leaning on her, and I was willing to bet that she was trying to visualize me wearing one of her blouses, or perhaps even a dress, God forbid. I shook the discomfiting thoughts out of my head as she continued to snicker and looked up to see that a wall of ice was blocking our path. I was glad that our banter had succeeded in distracting her from building up any anxiety about our situation. Hopefully, it would make the final task easier for her.

"Are you ready?" I asked.

She had already returned to our grim reality and nodded with uncertainty. "I...I think so."

Digging deep once again, Elsa willed her powers out of her, now, it seems, fighting to forcefully pull them out as opposed to struggling to throttle and reign them in. The center of the wall began to crack, and from it a round opening expanded into an intricate, roman-style archway that stretched over our heads. Through it we could see the rest of the hallway as it extended onward and hopefully continued without any further obstructions. The light of the sun shone in from the windows to our left and was bright and blinding after our time spent in the dark. As soon as our eyes adjusted, her hand reached for mine and we continued on our way, treading carefully on the slick floor.

We passed by my room and I was surprised to see that it wasn't entirely destroyed. I went inside and took the opportunity to pack a few things—clothes, my stack of journals, ammunition, a couple other sentimental artifacts, and most importantly, a long-sleeved shirt and a thick winter coat.

Elsa called from outside, "Kristoff, what are you doing?"

I came out shortly after, still stuffing something into my bag as I shrugged, "I was just packing a few things, planning for the worst."

She nodded with a concessive frown and turned with a sigh as we returned to our walk.

"I wonder how they're going to try and cover this one up," I expressed some moments later as we skirted around a fallen portion of the ceiling. We had managed to make it rather far and had hardly encountered any severe damages, and none of them had proven to be insurmountable. Despite the crooked and slanted hallways, the grand shards in the walls, ceilings and floors, and the piles of ice and debris that were all formed, changed, and placed by the storm, it was surprisingly calm inside. The blizzard was gone, and the hum of electronics and air conditioning—sounds that we generally take for granted and hardly notice—were absent, making the drafty corridors eerily quiet and forming a silence broken only by the huffs of our foggy breaths, the snowy crunch and the icy clack of our footfalls, and the reverberating echoes of our voices.

Elsa shook her head sadly, weighed down by resignation, "I don't think they're going to be able to."

"What do you mean?"

Elsa stopped and pulled away from me before heading toward the nearest window, resting her hands on its sill with her scuffed and dirty pale fingers placed atop one another, marking the window as her answer as she looked over her shoulder at me. Through the window the light of the sun lit up her hair and skin from behind and cast a grand halo about her head. My delirious angel comment reared its embarrassing head again. Thank God I hadn't said it aloud...or at least I don't think I had. The glass on all the windows was frosted over from the outside and made it nearly impossible to see anything through them other than vague shapes and colors. As I neared Elsa, I looked out through it, trying to figure out what she wanted me to see. As I finbally beheld it, I felt pure fear creeping in through my skin, starting at my feet and slowly rising to my head. Below the light blue blob of what was presumably the sky lay nothing but white with patches of cyan hues. Ice and snow.

"No way..."

I set off again, this time at a dead run, now even more anxious, worried, and desperate for answers and an exit than ever before.

"Kris!"

I didn't stop. I had to keep running. I had to know what was out there. I had to know for sure.

— —

_**Sleigh bells ring, are you listening?** _

The white powder crunched and crinkled, compacting beneath my boots as I trudged down the grand main staircase of the manor's entryway. I had to see the outside world for myself. I had to confirm that the worst hadn't come to pass. I had to hope that Elsa's resigned words did not speak the truth, that my denial was justified.

I reached the base of the stairs, skipping the last step and slipping on a patch of frozen carpet before falling flat on my arse. My breathing was heavy from the unexpected accident, and my shoulder, which had already been aching passively from the cold, was now pulsing irritably like a ceremonial drum. I then marveled at the fact that the now raw, cold, and desert-dry air did not scrape my throat with its harshness.

On unsteady feet and without any trustworthy purchase on the floor below them, I stood fully before making my way haphazardly to the final door, almost collapsing against it when my feet fell out from under me yet again. Regaining my balance, I grasped the ornate handle and yanked, but it did not budge. I checked the bolt but was unlocked, and I was ominously disheartened at the realization that the front door was sealed shut by some other force. I didn't want to guess; I feared that I would be right.

I backed up a step before barrelling full tilt into the wooden fixture as hard as I dared with my present condition and situation. A loud thud reverberated through it, the air, and myself, echoing slightly throughout the open space, and chattering my teeth with the force.

A sobering crackle of fracturing ice called from beyond. I huffed and charged again, egged on by the feedback, and it was much to the same effect except that this time the door lurched slightly. I gave it a third shove and the door opened completely. The abruptness of it led me to stumble out and practically fall face-first into the outside world. I instead ended up tumbling down the broad front steps, repeatedly experiencing the softness of something cold followed harshly by stone as I descended, barely escaping the fate of a broken neck as I tried to protect my head and neck with my hands. I hit the base roughly with an icy crack, bounced, and then  _slid_ at least a full five meters.

I squeezed my eyes shut and groaned despairingly as I absorbed the significance of all those small facts, particularly the last one. The frigid bite of the wind and the teasing, tickling of the frost confirmed it and left me to wallow on the flesh-numbing ground. I began to open my eyes in defeat, lashes already dashed with sleet, when a sharp pulse of pain hit my sensitive pupils and I immediately shielded them. Everything was white, brightly so, even more than the light that had come in from the windows, and I was still yet to adjust to the new surroundings in more ways than one. I stood up blindly, hands out before me should I fall again, before slowly reopening my eyes to a squint.

_**In the lane, snow is glistening...** _

It was even worse than I imagined—beautiful nonetheless, but in conclusion and circumstance still utterly and inarguably terrible. The circular driveway was now a white plain with the tops of the cars barely visible from underneath their own piles of snow. Other sections instead shone with the pale blue of thick ice, which was spread up in waves, frozen in time and temperature at the moment when it had all crashed against the walls of the manor, the stone of the fence, and the rest of my surroundings, trapping the cars and foliage within its icy embrace. A large, frozen, and ravaged spire extended from the fountain in the center of the traffic circle, the translucent solid splaying out and rising up like a savage and wicked blade that was straight out of a psychopathic sadist's wet dream. The road beyond the gates was swathed in much the same manner as the driveway, covered in piles of snow accumulated atop frozen waves of destruction.

With a faint lurch of surprise and disgust, I thought I glimpsed several dark stains of red across and underneath the landscape.

_**A beautiful sight, we're happy tonight...** _

I had failed again, this time even more utterly, and it was then that I realized that I truly was to blame. There was so much more I could have done, should have done, and that I had ultimately failed to do.

Frigid arms snaked around my waist from behind, and if it weren't for the pressure of them or the weight of the soft cheek that was also pressed into my back, I would not have noticed. I felt something extremely cold and damp soak into the back of my coat.

"I'm sorry..." Elsa moaned through frozen tears and choked sobs, the sound of it vibrating against me.

"It's not your fault." My voice was monotonous.

I could feel Elsa shaking her head against me, "I'm the one who froze everything— _I_ did, not you..."

"I was supposed to help you control it," I growled, my slowly-building rage directed within as I stared down at her pale arms where they rested over my midsection. Each hand was clenched over the opposing arm. I felt hollow and gazed unseeingly at my reflection in the frozen ground. "I failed you."

Her arms tightened around me, "That doesn't matter. It doesn't...matter," I could feel her begin to shake as her sobs racked her body. "I don't know what we're going to do now," she moaned, "The hunters will find us, and then..." She trailed off as the thoughts became too much for her.

"Maybe they don't know you caused it."

Her arms tightened a fraction, and I admonished myself for the spear of blame I had unwittingly impaled her with.

I sighed audibly, voice wavering, "M-Maybe they'll just think it's just some freak storm or something, then it will thaw, and it will all pass, as long as no one sees you use your powers."

"Oh God..."

"What?" I snapped, following her with panicked eyes as she came around swiftly to stand before me and gingerly clutch my face in her hands.

"If even  _you're_ making excuses and denying the obvious..." she bit her lip, her tear-moistened eyes still looking ready for another round of waterworks, before she tackled me into a hug and started sobbing into my chest. "We're  _fucked_ , Kristoff! You know that none of what you're saying is true! They won't be fooled, and it's not going to thaw! There's just too much of it, and now they know! It hardly matters even if I could thaw it all..."

Slowly, she released me from her grasp and walked out onto the frozen driveway, looking around in dejection at the aftermath of her storm. She walked across the frozen ground with ease, of course; her enchanted and sure-footed feet passed atop the ice and snow if it were just concrete. Her feet didn't even sink into the drifts despite the fact that they had to have been at least a full meter deep.

_**Walking in a winter wonderland...** _

Elsa stopped at the fountain, gazing up at it as it glinted in the light of the sun, and I didn't hesitate to follow her, though I managed it with significantly less grace, slipping and sinking as I sloshing and half-climbed through the wintry driveway, leaving a mess of disturbed snow in my wake.

I reached her finally and noted, somewhat idly, that she didn't even leave any footprints when she walked across the snow. I stared at her back with teeth gritted against the blizzard and from my fleeting composure. With the cold, hard facts thrust into my face, I could no longer hold onto my brittle hopes that none of this was actually happening. There was, however, one thing that I still didn't quite understand, "How can you be so sure that it won't thaw?"

"Are you blind?" She still gazed out at everything, impassively now. The snow was covering everything, even the hills and the trees that stood far into the distance. How far had this gone? "We managed it twice, once as a fluke, and another in a way that could maybe be reproduced...but it was hardly anything, not nearly of this scale. This..." she trailed off, clutching at her chest as she stared out anxiously into the grey and white air, the falling and swirling snow being so dense and profoundly populous that it now blocked out the blue of the sky. Elsa exhaled a shuddering breath, hunched over slightly as if out of breath. "This is bigger than anything else that's ever happened before," she gazed at one of her hands, which was no longer blue with cold as it had been when I first found her while the world was still crashing down around us, but her skin was still devoid of the reddish-pink hue of warmth. "I can feel it all and it's..." her hand lowered as her gaze slowly went skyward. "It's  _everywhere_."

"What do you mean by everywhere?" I asked slowly, "How could you know that?" Could she really feel all of the ice that she created? Was that what she meant?

She turned around, eying me sincerely, but a sense of dread and melancholy was clouding her expression, "We need to find a news broadcast."

I nodded, trying to raise myself from my swirling feelings of doom and hopelessness, rallying around a goal. "We'll have to go into town then. The manor isn't-"

"I know." She started toward the nearest vehicle without another word, her head held down as she wrapped herself in her arms.

I stopped as a thought occurred to me, "What about Anna? Should we not-"

"She's alright. I just know it, somehow, but distance is the best thing that I can give her right now, much like it always has been." Her tone of voice darkened, "That conclusion is even more evident now."

I pursed my lips in disapproval. If Anna was alright, as Elsa so firmly believed, then there wasn't much to worry about—she would have had her bodyguard with her—but it still didn't feel right to just leave them there alone. "You're not even going to say goodbye to her?"

Elsa was almost at the car now and stopped. Her loose and tangled hair blew in the harsh winds. "If I were to try...I don't think I'd be able to bring myself to actually leave." Her hands clenched, and with a sweep of her arm, she blasted away the snow that was on and around the black Cruisemaster CTV before her.

"Elsa!" The high, elated voice came from the right, and as I looked through the swirling blizzard I managed to pick out the group of people that were rushing towards us. Elsa started to turn away, but I caught her shoulder; I had seen Kai and Anna among them. The were upon us quickly, and before her elder sister had time to protest, Anna had flung her arms around her in a crushing hug full of her laughs and her sobs. "Oh my god you're ok! I knew it! I knew it..." her voice devolved into cries that she buried into Elsa's shoulder. Whenever the blonde would try to pull away, Anna would respond by tightening her embrace. After what must have felt like forever, Anna pulled her head away and instead held her sister fast with a grip on her shoulders as she beheld her at arm's length. "Why didn't you tell me, Elsa?"

Elsa couldn't look her in the eye. "Why do you think?"

"I don't know! That's why I'm asking!" Anna shook her in her arms. "Elsa, look at me, please." Begrudgingly, she complied. "I don't know what you think your reasons are, but I want—no, I  _need_  you to know that you can tell me  _anything_! Anything at all!" She crushed her back into another hug, "I'm your damned sister for god's sake!"

Elsa finally managed to extricate herself from Anna, taking a step back and clutching at herself. "You need to stay away from me. It's not safe for you to be around me," She glanced over at me and her eyes traced to my shoulder, "It's not safe for anyone."

Anna stepped forward and again Elsa moved away. "But why didn't you tell me? "

"It made it easier to keep you away."

Anna ground her teeth in fury with her eyes squeezed shut, "Elsa, I know I've lost my memory, but I'm not made of glass!"

"You don't have to be," Elsa muttered darkly as she stepped away and turned to address the others. "Kai, how many?"

"Only seven or so, ma'am. We were preparing to seek refuge in town, but Miss Anna refused to stop looking for you."

Elsa huffed and looked out at the others. I was surprised to see that I recognized almost all of them. Gerda, who was trying her best to hide her relief and joy at finding Elsa alive and safe, Ms. Perud, who was apparently having an impromptu glaring contest with Elsa at the moment, Kronk, who appeared to be either extremely deep in thought or just daydreaming, Anna's bodyguard Marshall, who stood rigid and aside, much like I currently was, along with one of the Syd brothers—I think his name was Ron, but it might have been Fred...or George. The last member was a stranger, whom I didn't recognize, with black and wavy shoulder-length hair along with a pencil-thin mustache and a metal hand. He was dressed in a bright red coat and said nothing to anyone though he looked about at everything with a sort of passive curiosity. Elsa turned back to Kai, "Let us continue to town then. Have you found a functioning car that will be large enough for this group?"

Kai nodded, "Yes, it's a ways over the hill."

"Good." She turned to me as she continued to address everyone else, "Let us go at once."

— —

"What the hell do you mean she's the damn Snow Queen?! What even is that?" Peter questioned frantically, looking around at the rest of the room's occupants, searching their eyes for answers that he didn't have.

Eugene was reluctant to respond, and as a result, Rapunzel easily beat him to it, "It means that she's the one we've been looking for, the woman and the calamity described in the prophecy that the Professor uncovered."

Peter began to shiver as the realization dawned on him. "No way... Oh gods, no!" He flinched back futilely as Eugene grabbed his shoulder and tried to push him downward, "Eugene! What're you-"

"Calm down Peter, you're flying again."

Peter looked down, startled and embarrassed by the sight of the ground being much farther down than it should have been and slowly tried to descend. His worried eyes flicked around at everyone again once he was back on the floor, "What are we going to do?"

"I don't know, but for now we need to ride out this storm-" he was cut off by a sudden harsh banging at the back door of the storeroom in which the were hiding, coming from a door that led out into the alley behind the shop.

No one moved or said a word, instead staring transfixed at the door. The startling sound was repeated, louder this time, more insistent, and Oaken shared a worried glance with Eugene and asked in a whisper, "We should let them in, ja?"

"Probably," he said, before approaching the door and turning the handle. The moment that the latch was undone, the door lurched with the force of the outside wind and he struggled to prevent it from flying open. "Jeez! Not even a good coat would save you out...there..."

In the doorway, covered in sleet and ice from the wrathful blizzard outside stood a familiar man with short, wet light brown hair, dressed in a wrinkled, ruffled, and frosted black suit with a white undershirt and an undone tie. He had unkempt stubble along his jaw and a clear-white earpiece hung from his shirt collar. His eyes, dilated, brown and bloodshot, held a wild and vacant look as he looked up into Eugene's eyes. His movements were stiff and rigid, and when he spoke, icy mist poured out from within him, "Where...is Kristoff?"

The worried stares of the others shifted to ones of shock as they gasped and swiveled around towards the strange, frosted stranger. Rapunzel was the first to step forward, running her agitated fingers through her endless hair. A feeling of wonder was mixed into her gaze. "You you Kristoff? Does that mean you also know Elsa? Elsa Arendelle?"

The frosted man paused and with seemingly extreme effort, he managed a small nod, "Yes. I..." he frowned, squinting and glancing away as he struggled to remember, "I...was her bodyguard." He looked Rapunzel in the eye again, "My name is Sven."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to part two of Winter's Guardian, Fryse, which is actually "freeze" in Norwegian. Saffron, in case you didn't know and were curious, is made from the stigmas of crocus flowers, and the official flower of Arendelle is a purple crocus. Seems rather fitting if you ask me. I've also just uploaded the first chapter of a new Cinderella fic I'll be writing on the side called Pumpkin Ever After, where instead of the carriage (or limo) reverting into a pumpkin…it's Cinderella. Yep. Every night from midnight to sunrise, she's a magnificent, orange gourd. Let the antics commence! And see you in two weeks!


	15. No Escape From The Storm Inside

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to get this up as quickly as possible what with it being late and all, and have as a result elected to skip my usual proofreading check, and will come back to do it later.

"There's just one thing I don't understand," Anna looked toward the opening of their humble, fire-lit cave where Kristoff still sat looking out into the wintry wasteland beyond, "If this storm truly is Elsa's doing, why do you think she's dead?"

Kristoff sighed and repositioned himself on the rocky surface in a vain attempt to get more comfortable, "The storm has proved to be more than capable of sustaining itself even while she was unconscious and incapacitated; in fact, it became stronger as she grew weaker, almost like it's siphoning power by force instead of receiving it from her..." He looked out into the storm, and his expression darkened, "And knowing the motive of our adversaries, I have no doubt that they murdered Elsa a long time ago."

Anna stiffened, first with horror, but then straightened her back defiantly as she blasted the air from her lungs. "Then we'll have to see how well your judgement can be trusted," she snapped. Kristoff glanced back at her as she diverted her gaze to the worn, leather-bound book before her, immersing herself in a world of the past.

— —

I would often forget that it wasn't the end of the world—not yet at least—it was only a severe disruption from the norm. Order was still present and we could still go on without too much trouble—or rather just some of us could; it was a natural disaster, perhaps the worst one since Hurricane Katrina had hit the United States all those years ago, or perhaps all of those major earthquakes from throughout the 2010s, but it wasn't the end. There was still something left. The only difference was, of course, the severity of this particular event and its wholly unprecedented existence. We already knew then that if the storm didn't abate within a reasonable time frame, it wouldn't be long before things got very ugly and extremely cold in the truest and most intense sense of the word, and based on the taste of it that we've already gotten, the old ice age might as well have been an age of blistering hellfire when the day of reckoning inevitably comes and turns the surface of the Earth into Cocytus. My only hope is that those words prove to be nothing more than an elaborate exaggeration.

For now though, we have time; not everyone knew just how limited that time would be, but, of course, they didn't know about Elsa either. It would be best to keep it that way.

The ride in the van was profoundly quiet. The radio was off, as everyone was still trying to digest everything that they had witnessed, understand what it meant, and determine for themselves how they wanted to revise—or scrap and rewrite—their personal philosophies. I empathized with them. I had only just noticed that my arm didn't really hurt anymore. Though still a little sore when exerted too much, it was more akin to discomfort than actual pain, and the limb felt okay. I wasn't sure whether that was normal or not, what with it being so soon. Anna refused to let go of her sister, nonverbally insisting at all times on some form of physical contact with her much to the blonde's displeasure. Elsa was of course resistant at first, occasionally squirming like a cat trapped in its owner's loving arms, but she eventually gave up, finally coming to terms with the futility of escaping. The tension bunched in her shoulders refused to dissipate, however. After everything that had transpired between them, Anna likely knew why Elsa was reacting the way she was, but she was still holding on, probably fearing that if she let go she'd never get another chance to touch her.

Ms. Perud clicked her tongue spitefully, "So first you're put in charge of a multi-billion dollar corporation, and now you've somehow managed to freeze everything over? I suppose it's fitting that someone as cruel and nasty as you would be a  _witch._ "

The brutal crack of skin against skin immediately drew everyone's attention, and as the occupants of the vehicle witnessed the scene before them, which was suspended in a moment in time, stretched into what seemed like several full minutes, they were all stunned into silence, leaving nothing but the ambient rumbling of the van and a suffocating vacuum devoid of sound as they all held their breaths.

Perud's head had turned sharply to her right, and the left side of her face was flushed darkly, appearing starkly against the gray pallor of her leathery skin where Anna had struck her. Her aggressor's hand was still outstretched, reddened as well, and her teal eyes were furious slits of Greek fire amidst a burning, molten, countenance.

"Don't you  _fucking_   _dare_ talk to my sister like that," Anna snarled, holding nothing in her eyes but an unspoken threat of murder.

Anna's glare didn't leave Perud's face for the longest time. Her ferocious protectiveness was as palpable as the heat from a razing conflagration. No one said anything more or even dared eye contact with one another for the rest of the drive.

Everyone knew what Elsa had done, but they didn't know why, and they had even less of an idea how. Though they had seen so much more of the world behind the veil than anyone else, they still hadn't seen all that I had. All they knew was that Elsa could somehow control ice and that an immense and monstrous storm was born when her powers were unleashed. Obviously, and to Elsa's chagrin, they assumed that she would be to be the one to fix everything.

Tensions didn't fall even as we neared the Arendal town proper. If anything, they got worse. When we heard the first of the shouting and cheering, Elsa stiffened anxiously, outwardly appearing only stern, but I knew that she was panicking on the inside. Anna picked up on it as well but seemed unsure of what exactly was wrong, only sensing that something just  _was_.

We were in the streets now, but the snow still crunched between the pavement and the tires, and the voices were louder. Through the tinted windows, we could see that we were amidst a dense and jubilant crowd that was filling the streets.

"What the hell is all of this? Some sort of holiday?" The red-coated man asked, speaking for the first time. Ms. Perud looked about at the people with puzzlement soured by her contempt for the common folk, she was rather quiet though, still probably reeling from Anna's slap. Elsa's lips were drawn into a thin line, but she surprisingly held her tongue.

Anna didn't seem perturbed by the festive mob and looked out with bemused curiosity at the sights around us, studying the buildings, the streets, and the faces in the crowd. They were particularly clustered around an edifice that was surprisingly labeled as Oaken's Trading Post; I hadn't realized that he'd made a franchise out of it."Maybe that building has a TV? For a news broadcast?"Anna ventured.

"Almost every house has at least one TV in it. That doesn't explain anything," Ms. Perud mumbled listlessly as she stared with disinterest at the sky and the falling snow.

We passed by the front windows of Oaken's, which the crowd was most definitely congregating around, and through them we could see that it was in fact a sizable restaurant and coffee shop. At the far wall by the bar were a series of ridiculously massive screens showing a smartly dressed news anchor along with images of snow. Anna smirked as she eyed it, "I doubt anyone has one that big though."

Elsa turned to the driver's seat, "Kai, here."

The van slowed to a stop in front of the doors, and the locks clicked as they disengaged before we prepared to depart. I stood quickly, wanting to be out of the vehicle before Elsa in order to better guard her as we went inside, but to my surprise, she actually waited for me to go ahead of her before she followed, and then kept close to my back. There wasn't any contact between us though; she had an image and a facade to maintain.

We all stepped out without much incident until the crowd began to notice Elsa, eliciting gasps and cries of delighted surprise.

"It's Lady Arendelle! Lady Arendelle has come!"

"Lady?" I mumbled aloud, stopping where I was. Elsa must have heard me, as she nudged my back with much more force than was really necessary to make me keep moving.

The exuberant crowd began to close in on us, all talking at once, all with nothing to say but kind praise and words of reverence, and at that moment Elsa dropped all pretenses and attempted to burrow her face into my back like a small child. Her steps tried to quicken, pushing me forward insistently with clear and urgent haste.

We cleared the doors, but she found no respite inside the building; once everyone turned and noticed her, it was much of the same thing. Elsa groaned, but she oddly didn't sound scared, only...embarrassed. She was going to have a lot of explaining to do.

"It is an honor to be in your presence, your ladyship!"

"What a blessing!"

"What brings you to our town, Lady Arendelle?"

Reluctantly she pulled away from me and with a deep breath, donned her authority like a coat. "Please be silent," she commanded. Her voice was soft, but everyone quieted immediately, mostly out of respect, but some of the eyes in the crowd still shown with awe as they were rendered speechless by the musical sound of her voice. I had plenty of questions, and so did the rest of our party, but with the din of the crowd erased, the sound of the news broadcast was finally audible and caught Elsa's attention, and soon after, everyone else's.

"We have some surprising reports coming in about what some people are calling The World's  _Biggest Blizzard_. An immense storm system suddenly emerged about two days ago near Oslo in Southern Norway, and has since spread to cast the entire Scandinavian Peninsula as well as Denmark, Germany, and Northern Poland and in at least a meter of snow..." The anchor continued to go on about the freak storm, and as they commented on its size, I felt compelled to check on Elsa and turned to see her staring at the screen in shock. Her red-rimmed eyes glistened with the moisture of unshed tears, and I speculated that she wasn't listening to the report any longer.

"No..."

It seemed to be hitting her all at once, stunning her in place. She was seeing what she had most feared, the loss of control, which was made even worse by the extent of her power, the extent of her storm. As the rest of broadcast continued, displaying footage and images along with on-site reports, Elsa turned away, unable to watch any longer, unable to stand amongst the crowd and the whispers and the glances and the stares, and lurched strangely before sprinted straight toward a hallway near the entrance and making a sharp turn down it with wide eyes and a hand held over her mouth. I followed her with apprehensive haste, but was stopped by a sign on a door displaying a simplified and generic silhouette of a round-headed woman wearing a dress as the door to the women's bathroom swung lightly in the wake of Elsa's passing. I waited beside it without a word. I was unable to see anything, but I could hear her in the stall as she retched. Repeatedly.

She was changed when she came out several minutes later, not in a concrete, apparent, or even a literal sense, but something about her was off somehow, the aggregate of countless small tells that were either out of sync, missing, or oddly present. She was cleaned as best as she could manage, but flecks of the obvious were present on her clothing—she would no doubt be irritated by it once I told her about them. She seemed to be very far away within her mind, no longer truly aware of her surroundings on a conscious level.

"Ms. Elsa?" I began cautiously, speaking in a tone that I would use with a disturbed stranger, as she seemed almost like a different person. "Are you alright?"

Elsa swallowed thickly, eyes fixed on oblivion. "No," She replied frankly, her hands tracing her arms as she held herself, "I...I think I'm having trouble fathoming the  _immensity_  of what I've done..." She almost fell to her knees, but I caught her by the shoulders, supporting all of her weight as she refused to try and stand. The only movements she made were with her lips and her hands, reaching out to grasp my forearms, and continuing to mutter and mumble like a crazed fool, "I've frozen the house, I've frozen the town, I've frozen an entire fucking  _continent!_ " I set her down on her knees and joined her on the floor, ignoring the pain and discomfort that shot up through my bruised legs, trying to look at her at eye-level as she began to sob.

"Elsa..."

"I can hardly stand to bear all the guilt on my own to begin with, let alone with the others glaring at me all the time..." Her voice cracked through her groans and despair.

I frowned in disagreement, "They aren't glaring at you, they're just-" The intensity of her sudden, forceful, and tortured stare silenced me completely; this apparently wasn't something that was up for discussion.

"I think we should split off from them," she stated, switching gears abruptly, "strike out on our own like we originally planned to do, just head for the cabin and wait it all out." She cringed and her thin, pink lips were flattened against each other as she grimaced, "The agency will be coming for  _me_. The fewer people who are involved, the better."

I gazed back skeptically, partly disappointed that I couldn't see her face through her hair; it made it much more difficult to guess what she was thinking. "Are you sure?" I asked. "I'd think that the idea of safety in numbers would still pretty applicable in our situation, and even though a few of our party members might be a bit...hesitant to lend us any help or protection," I gestured back toward the noise of the townspeople outside with a thumb, "I think it's safe to say that we're untouchable here amidst this throng of your...fans." To my relief, she was looking up again, and I quirked an eyebrow at her afterwards, questioning the nature of the strangely devoted locals with my gaze.

Elsa looked away again, closing herself off. "I really don't want to talk about it."

"Is that because it's actually unimportant or is it just because you find it somewhat embarrassing?" When she said nothing in reply, I sighed with mock disappointment, "Well, if you don't want to explain, I'm sure there'll be at least someone out there who would be more than happy to enlighten me." I started to stand when a panicked Elsa shot out a hand and fisted it in my sleeve, holding me in place, or more accurately just providing a little resistance; had I of wished, I could have easily just kept going and she and her small frame would have been helplessly dragged along behind me from where she was clutching me, but I heeded her wishes and knelt again. She still hadn't let go.

Elsa grumbled, her eyes downcast with resignation, brushing her platinum-blonde bangs from her face. "Fine. I'll explain, but not right this minute; we all need to find a place to stay for the night, and perhaps make plans for an even longer stay. Once we're settled in, we can begin to finalize everything," she looked back at me pointedly, "including my lone wolf plan."

"Which I disagree with."

She nodded sideways in a diplomatic gesture, "An opinion which I respectfully recognize but politely disregard." She smiled a tight and businesslike smile.

I glowered, but she giggled a little; my glare must have come out as a pout or something. I was glad that she seemed to be in better spirits though, returning already from her unsettling state of delirious gloom. I smiled back at her, and we sat there like fools, grinning at one another on our knees on the tiled floor in front of the bathrooms of a small town restaurant in the middle of a gargantuan, freak summer storm.

After some time, she let go of me and rose, dusting off her pants before outstretching a hand to help me up. Though I was more than capable of standing on my own, I took her hand anyway, partly out of courtesy and gratitude, but also because I was honestly reluctant to pass up a chance to touch her fair skin. Her hand was soft, and warm for reasons unknown as it sometimes was in those particularly rare and tender moments. I refused to dwell on that last fact lest I started blushing like an adolescent schoolboy with an unexpectedly received valentine card from his crush and followed her towards the exit.

"Let's head for the hotel. I've seen enough of things here." Her tone was clipped and professional.

"Yes ma'am," I replied stiffly. The masks were coming back on, fitted in place and tempered in the forges of willpower as we prepared to face the world beyond.

— —

As we drove through the streets, piled once again in the van, it became increasingly clear that the town was in no way exempted from the wrath of Elsa's storm. The locals' strange reactions to it all, however, continued to confound us, and Elsa's continued silence on the matter wasn't helping with things either. I wondered if she ever planned to eventually explain it to any of the others.

_Probably not_ , I grumbled internally.

We arrived quickly at The Arendellian; it wasn't hard to find, as it was one out of the only two hotels in the entire town. It also happened to be the tallest building on the skyline. At the insistence of the receptionist, who was a balding Asian man with thick glasses and dressed in a black, pinstriped suit, Elsa was given the reserved penthouse suite on the top floor, additionally free of charge. When she had tried to decline the offer, he merely shook his head good-naturedly and handed her room key, as he smiled a bright and toothy smile. His teeth were so perfect that they almost didn't look real. We had no real luggage to speak of thanks to our rather unfavorable circumstances but decided to head up to our rooms anyway before embarking on a much-needed expedition for necessary provisions, including the likely futile quest to find suitable, heavy winter clothing in the middle of summer.

After a quick briefing with the rest of our group, we all went up the elevator and headed toward our rooms, with the bodyguards following our respective charges. Once Elsa arrived at her suite, which was notably immense and perhaps a bit ostentatious even with its sleek and modern design, she sighed, dropped her purse by the door, and fidgeted with her clothes. She purposely walked into the couch before falling down on its soft yielding surface with a contented moan. The penthouse featured floor-to-ceiling windows, two levels with a spiral staircase, and a loft-like design. I came in after her, closing the door behind me, and as I took it all in, I suddenly realized that I didn't know where my own room was.

"Which suite will I be staying in?" I asked, and then commented with prejudiced annoyance, "I would hope that you at least tried to pick something on the same floor as yours for security's sake." I knew all too well about her less-than-appreciative opinions of standard procedures and protocols and wasn't going to let her slip through the loopholes in our time of crisis. It was surprisingly rather difficult to remember that we were in danger.

Elsa frowned back at me incredulously, seemingly offended, and as she sat up on the couch with crossed legs, her hands immediately folded. "You'll be staying with me, of course," she snapped. I was surprised, not only by the news, but by the fact that she had been offended by my question as opposed to the comment that had followed it. In response to my confused and skeptical answering frown, she rolled her pale blue eyes as she got up off of the couch and approached me with the predatory and fearless ease that comes with power and comfort, smirking with playful scorn. "There's a guest bedroom, you silly prude—not to mention that the couch probably folds out as well."

I sighed with a reproachful expression, partly wondering if she was currently being driven by an ulterior motive of some sort; I felt that there was something unsaid lurking at the end of each of her sentences. "Very well then—and for the record, I am  _not_ a prude."

She stood directly in front of me now, and inclined her head upward in challenge as her next words burst out from her, "Then why won't you kiss me?"

"Wha-" The non-sequitur change of tack from something harmless and bland to something which  _really_ needed that missing transition in order to prevent the potential occurrence of choking hazards, sprayed drinks, and dumbfounded jaw-drops, had rendered me a statue, carved of flesh and blood, frozen in time and place with an astonished expression. My mouth hung agape for several endless seconds as I attempted to gather the shred of gray matter that had scattered to the winds after my brain exploded. All the while, Elsa stood waiting, hands now clasped before her as she gazed up at me attentively, expectantly. She had at first shared my reaction to her own words back in the initial moment when they were fired from her mouth, but she had recovered quickly and steeled her resolve into something strong and unbreakable.

I came closer to Elsa and towered over her. She didn't seem very angry or even intimidated, just extremely determined. "What are you talking about?" I snapped indignantly.

A small, pale finger jabbed at my heart as she got up right in my face, likely standing up on her toes. My wandering eyes looked down and confirmed it, noting along the way the suggestively low cut of her buttoned shirt and the mounds of flesh that poked out from it teasingly.

_Had it always been like that?_

"You know  _exactly_  what I'm talking about! Now, we've danced around the issue long enough—literally—and I  _know_  that you know what I mean."

I was silent and stone-faced, but Elsa was unfazed by the unfriendly expression. She reached for my hands and stroked her thumbs across my palms, tipping back my mask to peer at what hid below. Ice blue irises met their amber counterparts.

"There's something between us, Kris." She squeezed my hands. "Why won't you admit it to yourself?"

I closed my eyes in resignation, "That's not it. That's not what the problem is. I..."

"Then what is it? Is it the bodyguard issue? I've already told you that I don't care about that!" Her arms unclasped my hands as they began to trace up my arms, "Why won't you at least try?" Her delicate fingers passed across my shoulders and scaled up my neck, making me shiver as her cold hands finally made contact with my skin, before lastly cupping and caressing my cheeks, cradling my face. "Just try, please. That's all I ask."

I had no more words that I could say.

As the familiar sparks started to fly and ignite once again, Elsa began to lean closer, and her hands tried to pull my head towards hers. So much about it felt wrong, but so much else felt so  _right_ ; it was pure, it was scandalous, it was something... _more_. Fear had me paralyzed, negating my already dwindling resistance, allowing her to successfully pull my face to hers, and then, in that timeless moment, our lips met for the first time. It was chaste, partly, I wager, from inexperience on the sides of both parties—not surprising coming from a reclusive and rather intimidating bookworm and a loner, ex-military bodyguard who fancies himself a hermit—but it was also because of the inherent tentativeness that was attributed to our entire tryst.

Such reflective and critical thoughts only come now as I write this—looking back through my retrospective lenses—but in the heat and the feel of that moment, all I could think about were the sensations of the present and the havoc taking place in my brain as it fired on all cylinders and blew all the whistles in a frantic attempt to process the fact that this was actually happening, that I was actually  _kissing Elsa_. Her lips were so soft, and nothing else seemed to exist besides  _us_ —or rather just her. She was consuming every fiber of my consciousness.

Elsa pulled away eventually, I was too stunned and amazed to note the passage of time. Her eyes were bright and sparkling, and her cheeks were flushed the color of cherries. She smiled radiantly, unleashing a beam full of enough warmth and unconcealed adoration to melt even her ice. Her natural scent was heady, and the entire ensemble that was Elsa had captured me fully. It then took on a mysterious twist as she grabbed my hands and pulled me further into the living room. I followed dumbly, entranced, and was passionately shoved down onto the couch before she leapt upon me, losing herself in me as I in turn did with her, releasing all those months of pent-up tension in a few intense and extremely sensual minutes of pure, affectionate bliss.

She came up for air and rested her forehead against mine, arms braced against the cushions on either side of me. Her eyes were closed and she smiled dreamily, "I really believe this can work. I believe it because...I love you."

I still had no more words that I could say. They were now stuck in my throat, held back by the remnants of resistance that were still holding on within. Her grin widened despite my silence, "I know you feel the same; you've made it so clear to me countless times, even when you weren't aware of it. You don't have to say it if you can't."

Never was I more grateful for the superior level our nonverbal communication than I was at that precise moment.

I closed my eyes as I again inhaled her scent and spoke quietly, my voice weak as I cursed my pitiful, failed attempts at a confession. "Thank you."

We basked in the silence, content, quiet, and still until a grumbling groan sounded from below, interrupting us. I frowned at her, looking directly into her eyes with concern as the warm fuzz of intimacy evaporated. The light and awareness of our surroundings floated in like rays through the gaps in the blinds of a just-opened window.

"When was the last time you ate?"

"Um..." I could feel her skin shifting against mine as her brows furrowed into a familiar expression that was already grafted into the inside of my skull as Elsa looked into her memories, her unfocused gaze directed downward for a moment, "The ball? There were refreshments on trays..." Her lips, swollen with romance, were pulled down into a frown. "How long ago was that?" she whispered to herself in horror.

"Well..." Not wanting to relinquish any of the contact that we were currently sharing, I looked out the corner of my eyes instead of moving my head, and glanced at my wrist and the clock that adorned it. The date was written out next to the time. "According to my watch, the party was three days ago."

Her eyes widened in shock, "Wh- Three whole  _days?_ "

She climbed off of me lithely and began pacing around the ensemble of couches as I watched warily, my eyes wavering back and forth like an agonizingly slow pendulum. I was already missing her warmth. I nodded in affirmation at her rhetorical question, "Yes. It seems that we were trapped in the ice for a lot longer than we thought." I stood up and headed for the counter where the service display panel was located, feeling quite hungry as well. "I'm going to order room service. What do you want?"

Elsa turned, and despite her stricken countenance, she blushed brightly and managed to smile beautifully—it was beautiful because it was real. "You can choose. I trust your judgement."

— —

"It's about damn time!"

"What?" Kristoff turned away from the entrance to glance curiously at Anna as she smirked down at the book, grinning like an absolute loon.

She turned to him sharply, her auburn hair whipping about her face as she smirked smugly with triumph and excitement. Giddy probably surmised it quite well. "You finally kissed Elsa!"

Kristoff could hardly register her words, "I- we-  _what_?! That's not- how..."

Anna huffed irritably and dropped the book to her lap, keeping her page with a thumb, as she pouted at the mountain man, cheeks puffed out as she attempted to hold in her emotions as her joy sublimated into frustration and anger. "Honestly, Kristoff, have you been listening at all?"

He fidgeted uncomfortably, "Well, to be fair, you kind of trailed off a while ago and started reading to yourself, and I told you, I don't like hearing people read my words. It feels weird..."

"Then don't bother getting all freaked out by my commentary! Sheesh. Also," she turned around toward the rest of the room's occupants, addressing everyone now, "I think I've figured out who took Elsa." That got their attention.

"Who?" Olaf asked.

"Callaghan."

Everyone deflated at that as the words reverberated slightly through the space, all of them giving up immediately upon hearing that odious name. Kristoff rubbed his face with a calloused hand as he sighed, "I'm not sure if I can follow your logic, but if you happen to be right about that then we're already pretty damn screwed. Callaghan can't be stopped by  _anyone_ ; you'd have better luck squaring off against Achilles while blindfolded, deaf, and hogtied."

Anna clicked her tongue in disapproval with a roll of her eyes, "There you go again, giving up before you even try. As far as logic goes, it wasn't that difficult to figure out—I mean, his faction  _is_  the only one that still has access to any of the Old World tech from before the EMP." She shrugged as she laid out the facts.

Kristoff's eyes widened before his brows creased in thought, "That's true, but it's also partly why we don't stand a chance against him. He's on a whole other level, hunting down the hunters, people like Oaken and his Merchants."

Anna regarded him blankly, feeling rather lost, "Who are the Merchants?"

Kristoff could only stare dubiously at Anna in the face of her ignorance. "Have you been living under a rock or something?"

"Um...well," She looked up at the craggy surface of the cavern, which danced with reflected hues of orange and yellow as the light of the campfire wavered and flickered across it. "Yeah, I guess have been. One giant, pointed, snowy rock," she quipped.

Kristoff rolled his eyes before launching into his explanation, "Well, the Merchants are Oaken's elite band of fighters and advisors—they're rather aptly named, I think. I've been told that they've been with him since the Crash, and were perhaps around him even before then. They were likely the ones accompanying him when he came after us at the cabin. Rumor has it that they wield their own powers and abilities, though like I said, it's just a stupid rumor. I suppose it's not really surprising that they'd make stuff up like this though; It's cold outside, and no one seems to has anything better to do other than hunt down the already starving wildlife or tell scary stories around the campfire." He exhaled sharply through his nose as he smiled bitterly, reflecting on just how grim everything had become. "It's fucking Cocytus now, and I honestly wouldn't be surprised if the devil truly were out here in the ice somewhere."

Anna sighed at her companion's dramatic and cynical tone before rallying back with her optimism, "It's not nearly  _that_  bad—at the pole, maybe, but we're still a long way from a frozen hell down here. To her greatest annoyance, her nose began to run and she sniffed before changing the subject, "So where did you hear all of this? With Oaken and everything, I mean." She shrugged in concession, "Sure, you're living  _on top of_ a rock, technically, but you're about as isolated from everything else as we are, aren't you?"

Kristoff thoughtlessly traced his finger in the frost that accumulated near the entrance, "I wasn't always living up here. It's a long story though, and it won't do us much to tell it. Besides," he gestured to the journal pile, "we've already got enough of my words to sift through already."

Anna exhaled petulantly, blowing her hair from her face, "Fine then," she looked back purposefully at Kristoff, who was frowning down at something, and said loudly "Let us continue with storytime, then!" Olaf cheered and Marshall rolled his eyes as he stoked the fire, already missing the relatively quieter times from before Kristoff's arrival. Perhaps some semblance of silence could return once they were all back on the road. Anna cleared her throat and began to read again.


	16. A Frozen Heart Worth Mining

Elsa sighed, sitting in deep contemplation at her desk as she stared down at the blueprints that were laid out before her. The fingers of her raised hand rubbing against each other absently, twiddling a blue feather quill between them. "I don't know…I was thinking that we would start with the truck and just go from there."

I stroked the stubble on my chin, nodding, "We could, yes, but there are still some merits about preparing all the ice cream first."

Elsa sighed, shaking her head in disagreement with folded arms, "I still don't think that's a good idea."

"Then why don't we let Sven decide?" I asked, looking behind me at the room where he stood in the center staring blankly ahead. "Sven?"

He didn't respond.

I approached and shook him by the shoulders, causing him to rock back and forth as a single solid piece. "Sven, hey!"

Elsa laughed, a high-pitched and out-of-place cackle. "I think he has brain freeze," she quipped from behind me before being overcome with a fit of giggles. I turned around sharply, confused by how she was making light of the situation, "Elsa, he-"

Elsa was gone.

So was the desk, in fact, yet the plans still floated in midair as if there was still a surface beneath them. I looked up and found the piece of furniture on the ceiling. Several holes were gouged into it. The sound of crackling ice came from behind me and made me turn around again. Upon seeing the source of the noise, I gasped. Sven was staring directly at me, with the chips of and cracks in the ice that covered and comprised him appearing and hanging loose around his eyes and about his neck, forming a ring about which he had swiveled his head.

Dead and vacant eyes bored into mine with unsettling intensity, and I heard the strained cracking sound again as his lips quivered before parting open with a snap and flakes of ice. A cold and opaque mist escaped from the depths of his maw. He hissed something quietly, but I could barely hear it.

"What? Sven, did you say something? Sven?"

He grumbled, a sound like falling and grinding rocks as he again muttered, louder, but even more grainy before he began to repeat it, his pitch increasing to the unsettling and cringe-worthy squeal of an automotive brake. I was beginning to lose my nerve. I felt so cold.

"Sven, what are you trying to say?!"

"I said..." His face twitched, sharply, violently, and he grimaced, more cracks forming as he began to growl and glare, and I beheld him with fear and morbid awe. "I SAID  _ENOUGH_!"

The screaming began. The screaming didn't stop. The world fell away as ice took its place, blasting out around, swirling around and around and everywhere, inside and out as I was flung through a frozen hurricane. The screaming didn't stop. It wasn't even Sven 's voice anymore, but it wasn't mine either. A flash of clarity sudden came to me from within the maelstrom. "Elsa?"

— —

I awoke to near-perfect darkness, a stygian black canvas painted over with dark strokes of pale blue and gray as the light of the moon broke through the curtains and the partially opaque blinds.

The screaming hadn't stopped.

"Elsa!"

I bolted from the sheets, scattering everything across the floor as I vaulted from the mattress, tripping in my haste before wrenching open the door and dashing along the path to her room. As I barged in, I shivered involuntarily; hit by a wave of frosty air that was as cold as a Nordic crypt. In the center of the room, amongst swirling sleet, shifting and bucking waves, and stabbing daggers of ice, Elsa writhed on the bed, screaming and sobbing amidst the hard and unyielding surface of the frozen linen sheets.

I rushed in without hesitation, hopping over and through the wintry obstacle course to land before the bed and shake my charge by the shoulders. "Elsa, wake up!" I shook again in a further attempt to wake her, but her thrashing became more violent at the contact.

"Let me go! I can't leave him—I won't!"

I dropped down on the bed, the ice-coated surface crackling beneath my knees as it gave out under my weight, and cradled Elsa to my chest, "It's a dream, Elsa! It's just a dream..."

She whimpered and I began to shush her quietly, rocking her slowly and rhythmically, lastly resorting to humming an old lullaby I didn't realize I knew until she finally calmed. Soon after, she had fallen asleep again, and the surrounding air had begun to warm.

— —

Sunlight awoke me this time, and my eyes blinked opened to soft light and the peaceful quiet of an early morning. Everything smelled like flowers, which was rather odd, but not exactly unpleasant. Everything had a light, golden look to it, and it wasn't until something brushed and tickled my nose that I realized that it was just Elsa's sunlit hair in my face.

I started with a jolt of surprise but found myself unable to sit up; my arms were wrapped around her waist, and one of them passed underneath her, pinning me in place. I was stuck with my front facing her back.

_Wait, were we_ spooning?

I sighed deeply at the odd circumstance, and Elsa stirred; my breath had likely woken her up as it blew against her hair. She moaned softly before turning her head towards me and gazing up at me sleepily. She was quite a sight, even with her vanity battered by the unconscious realm of sleep. She wore no makeup, obviously, all of her movements were groggy, and her hair was a pale-blonde flaxen bird nest piled atop and around her head. Despite all of that, she still looked adorable, and even more so she smiled sweetly at me. "Good morning." Her voice was soft but rough, and honestly sounded rather hoarse. "I was wondering when you'd finally wake up."

"Wha- you were awake already?!"

She giggled as she gave me a knowing look, "I'm an early bird," she prodded at me playfully, "and now I've got my worms!"

I could only stare at her impassively in the face of yet another one of her whimsical and eccentric mood swings. She smirked at my expression before turning over to face me and nuzzled into my chest.

"Why are we in the same bed?" I asked her out of morbid curiosity, feeling somewhat afraid of what I might hear.

Elsa chuckled against me, "I think that would be a question for me to ask  _you_." She shifted up onto her elbows to look at me properly with an intense and challenging gaze and lips still curled into that familiar lopsided smile, "This is  _my_  bed."

The memories of last night rushed back into my mind like a flood just then, and I met them with as much grace as I could muster, which wasn't much against the brutal waves of memory. I grimaced and frowned deeply as I relived the unsettling images of her screaming and thrashing on the frozen bed, and of how I had to cradle her to my chest until she finally fell asleep.

"You were having a nightmare." Anxious surprise overtook her features. "It woke me up, actually, and I held you until you calmed and finally drifted off. I must've fallen asleep too."

"Oh." She hung her head while her small, slender hands played with the collar of my shirt, feeling its texture and tracing its edge.

"You still remember what it was about?" I ventured, judging it to be a likely possibility if her reaction was anything to go by.

Elsa let out a single, cynical laugh and shook her head, "I don't think I could ever forget it; it's been a recurring one."

"But I don't ever remember you screaming like that before."

Her gaze snapped up, with her brows knit in confusion for a split second before softening into sympathetic melancholy, "Well it was a lot more...vivid this time...as well as a bit longer."

The words faded into silence as a pause took its place. Elsa's hands still rested on my chest as she examined her nails. After some internal debate, I decided to speak up. "You don't have to answer this if you don't want to, but what was the nightmare about?"

She clammed up immediately, and I felt my heart ache painfully. "I'm sorry."

She shook her head dismissively, "That's not it, it's...it's not so much that I'm afraid to talk about it, I just...you actually might not want to hear about it."

"Was it weird?" I asked lightly with a small smile, thoughts turning to my own strange visions from the night, all that nonsense about ice cream...and Sven. Thinking about that ending ultimately pulled a frown out of me.

Elsa shook her head, "That's not really the word I would use for it. It was surreal to an extent, yes, but it was mainly..." She couldn't find the words she was looking for, and her wary crystal blues instead turned to search for truth in my eyes, "are you sure you want to hear this?"

I nodded solemnly, "Yeah."

She laid her golden-white head on my chest again and inhaled deeply before letting out a soft contented moan. She seemed to be trying to calm herself.

"I dreamt of the worst coming to pass," she began, tracing circles on the exposed skin at the base of my neck. "I dreamt of the loss of control, the loss of everything that I hold—and once held—dear.

" It always begins with my birthday, with a chorus of the occasion's usual song being sung by no one, just invisible wraiths and shadows with familiar voices. Mama. Papa. Anna. You.

"Once I leave the room, I find myself before the wreckage of a plane. It's always the same though last night it was amidst the harshness of a swirling blizzard, and I actually felt cold in it. The remnants of the aircraft were still aflame, refusing to be snuffed out even in the face of the frigid winds. I approach it against my will, transfixed and unable to stop myself from going onward. I struggled against it because I already know what I'm going to see."

Her lips were trembling as she struggled to compose herself, and I rubbed her back to calm her. It seemed to help somewhat, and she regained the courage needed to continue.

"It's my parents, always there, always bloody and...charred. They're always dead, always holding hands, and then they would speak. They sounded unnatural, like possessed marionettes. 'You'll be fine, Elsa.' 'Protect your sister, Elsa.' 'Conceal, don't feel.'

"When I turn away in fright, I'm in the ballroom again, watching a five-year-old Anna play with a shadowy figure that conjures snow and ice. You already know what happens there. I have to relive that whole scene, all of it being the same as reality except that now I'm too far away, and that in this version, Anna actually..." She couldn't bear to say it, and stopped again, exhaling with shuddering breaths. "It gets worse. Are you sure you want to hear this?"

In truth, I wasn't. It was just as hard to hear it as it was to say it, but Elsa had held everything bottled up inside of her for long enough. She needed to let this out, and she needed for me to listen.

"Yes," I answered. For your sake.

She took a deep breath to collect herself. "Once Anna...fell, there was no denying what had become of her. The polished ground was always cold and unforgiving, and the sound..." she shuddered and moved on, "My parents would appear behind me, having risen from the wreckage and looking even more gruesome and unreal in the new lighting. 'You were supposed to protect her,' the would say, repeating it back and forth between them, and then a chorus of shadows would join them, eventually including Anna herself, across all ages, including the bloodied one who had just fallen."

Elsa shuddered again. "That's...usually when the screaming starts. Luckily that was also when it usually ended. I would wake up right after that with ice all around me, which is why I hadn't immediately realized that I had it last night when I woke up this morning." She looked around at our mostly dry setting.

"What was different about last night's dream then?" I asked. "You were talking during it, but I'm not sure what you..." From her expression, I became unsure of whether I should continue talking. She looked so conflicted right then, horrified and scared but still wondering if she should continue as I regarded her fully with protective concern. Moisture collected in her eyes as she blinked.

Her voice was a murmur and a gunshot in the silence. "I saw you die."

She didn't elaborate, and the way in which she sagged afterward told me all I needed to know about the effort it had taken for her to speak of it. She was then enveloped in her sobs and crushed herself to my chest, fisting her hands into my shirt and casting snowfall above us. It was probably nothing short of a miracle that I even got those four words out of her. I held her to me again, much like I had the previous night, rubbing her back and shushing her gently as the powder collected around and on us. I hardly noticed it.

"I'm still alive, Elsa, and I promise you that I will stay that way for a very long time."

"Don't make promises you don't know you can keep," she muttered into my chest, her retort reverberating through me.

"Then I promise that I'll try." I brushed a hand through her extremely unruly hair, which was perhaps the only physical flaw about her, if it could even be called that, and even then it wasn't really that bad. "Will that work for you?" I asked somewhat humorously.

Elsa couldn't bring herself to laugh, but she did calm considerably. "Yes."

I smiled, but when I tried to move my hand, I felt something tug and she yelped suddenly. A piercing and sudden flash of cold passed over me from all the places where we were in contact.

"Why did you do that?!" She moaned, wounded.

"Sorry, I think my hand's stuck."

She scoffed as I attempted in vain to unravel my hand from her interweaved locks. "Damn it, there're knots."

She struggled to turn her head as I picked at the tangled hairs, "How did you even manage to- ow!"

"Sorry, again."

"Here, why don't I just..." Elsa tried to move my hand away so that she could try instead but yelped again.

"That was the tangled hand."

"I noticed, genius." With a frustrated groan, she tried to sit up, holding onto my wrist to try and keep from tugging again. "Let's just use a mirror. Come on."

She led me by the hand to the bathroom, though not at all in the traditional or usual sense that likely comes to mind with that phrase. It was only once we stood before the dual sinks that were carved into the white, granite counter, and gazed into the reflective plane that covered the entire wall, well-lit from above by fluorescents that softly glowed from within the walls, that we both saw and fully took in the extent of our predicament.

We stood there for a moment in somewhat bewildered awe, and curiously examining the other's reactions. I wore a lopsided frown, and Elsa's lips were pursed tightly while her eyes widened. Her angelic alabaster face was framed by a tangled and knotted bush of long pale hair.

I pointed at it with my free hand, "We could always just cut it, you know."

Elsa's mouth gaped, popping into an "o" shape as she scoffed. "Absolutely  _not!_ " she cried indignantly, and the sharp look that she gave me through the mirror was a clash between the utmost incredulity and downright murderous fury. She clicked her tongue angrily at my suggestion. I chuckled, gaining another glare from her as well as a mumbled retort. "It's not funny."

"And yet I'm laughing. So," I went on, preventing her from getting a chance to have a comeback, leading her to pout, "What's the plan, boss?"

She regarded me strangely, "Boss?"

"Well, yeah. That's who you are..."

She smiled and shook her head, wincing as she turned too far and snagged on the knot, pulling her back to the problem at hand both figuratively and literally.

"I just need to get a closer look..." she trailed off as she entered the zone, grasping my wrist again to pull me forward as she leaned over the counter to get closer to the mirror.

As she worked, I marveled at how normal the whole thing felt, despite it being a rather strange coincidence. I suppose it came down more to just how real it was. Though I wouldn't call myself a hopeless romantic by any stretch of the imagination, or even an avid reader to begin with, I have read my slim share of sappy romance novels; curiosity tends to weigh out against social conventions when no one's around to judge you for it. Reality isn't at all like those scripted and carefully crafted tales and fantasies. Love is never perfect, and life is not ideal. Things are awkward sometimes, like now, and we all make mistakes. It's a part of being human. Only God knows what the future will bring, assuming he exists, and my experiences have more often than not led me to objectively question even that.

"You okay?"

"What?" I blinked, feeling a little dazed as I came out of my thoughts. I looked up at the mirror, confused for a moment before realizing that Elsa was actually looking at me directly, and I turned to her. She had already finished untangling my hand from her hair and had now entwined it with her slender fingers.

"You went somewhere else, and I wasn't sure when you were coming back." She smirked a little, 'It looks like you weren't too far away though."

"Sorry, I guess I just got lost in thought."

She nodded, and looked me up and down before giggling.

I looked down self-consciously but found nothing amiss, unless she was making fun of my t-shirt. "What? You got a problem with Muse?" She shook her head, still smiling about something and I was getting steadily more anxious.

"I just realized that we've now technically slept with each other."

Wow.

I closed my eyes with a groan as I rubbed the bridge of my nose, hoping by all accounts that I wasn't blushing like a damned fool, though her subsequent laugh confirmed what I had feared. "Elsa..."

"What? Don't tell me that doesn't excite you at least a  _little_  bit!" She folded her arms and leaned towards me and winked, simultaneously appearing to present her chest to me.

_Is she doing this on purpose?!_

I turned around and folded my arms defensively, trying to hide my face, and judging by the heat of it, I was most definitely on my way to becoming the world's biggest tomato. "Can we please stop talking about this?" I asked desperately, almost whining.

"Why? Am I making you uncomfortable?" I didn't even have to look at her to know that she still had that smug grin plastered on her face, crinkling her eyes as her plush lips curved into a genuine expression of mirth.

I grumbled irritably. "Yes. You are."

"Oh..." Her suddenly meek tone worried me, and I turned to back to her, disheartened to see that she had drawn inward to herself. She had taken a step backward, her hands were clasped before her at her waist, and her beautiful face was hiding within the dark embrace of the shadows formed in the wake of her still messy bangs. A moment of confusion passed before I pieced it all together.

"Elsa..." I reached for her shoulder, but she pulled away, breaking my heart. My hand fell, and I hadn't realized until then how much I craved her contact, never truly appreciating those fleeting moments of intimacy until they were gone. "I'm sorry."

She turned and left the room without a word, closing the door roughly behind her and leaving the sound to briefly echo around the small space. Even after it quieted, I could still hear it within my mind.

— —

We met up with the others later in order to acquire provisions and other necessities. Apparently Elsa and I were still not on speaking terms. No one seemed to notice of course—sans Anna—and the two of us went about the errands with hardly a connected glance and without any words between us. Things had started out so well that morning, and now it was as if we were strangers again—no, it was worse than that; she was actively taking steps to avoid me, again. It was on step forward and two steps back.

The pedestrians all stopped and stared at from the sidewalks as we rode past them, pointing it out to those who hadn't yet noticed and leading them to gaze in awe as well. Word must have circled around about what our van looked like.

Our experience in the lobby of the hotel was much of the same though much louder and additionally full of camera flashes. We had caught them off guard on that first day, but now the townspeople have come prepared. Elsa pressed her hand into my back to prompt me to pick up the pace, and I realized with concealed elation that it was the first time that she had touched me since that morning.

— —

I put down my share of the groceries and bags once I got inside and exhaled in relief. I hadn't been that overworked since the time when I had accompanied Elsa to the mall to see her dress. That felt like a lifetime ago though it had hardly even been two weeks since then. I looked up at Elsa as she passed me. "Are you still not talking to me?"

She passed into her room as if I wasn't even in the suite and slammed the door behind her.

"I guess not." I sighed, still staring at the door long after it closed.  _She just needs some time alone,_  I reasoned, and decided not to worry about it too much.

Dinner came around some hours later, and Elsa still hadn't appeared. I ate alone for the first time in months, and it surprised me how much something that mundane had managed to bother me. Throwing down my fork, I rose to dump the rest of my food after hardly eating any of it. After that, I literally had no idea what to do with myself; free time wasn't exactly something that was very abundant in my current lifestyle, and now I suddenly had multiple hours with nothing to do and had no orders to receive. A flash of excitement came over me for a moment, mirroring that which is felt by a child left at home alone for the first time, but it faded quickly, and I smiled to myself at the absurdity of both it and my current state of mind. I was free to do whatever I pleased for once, and yet I only wanted more directions, instructions, and orders. It was almost like self-imposed Stockholm syndrome or something. I ultimately resolved to just go to bed; hoping that the dawn of the following day would bring about some answers, or something at the very least.

As one would expect, I did not find rest very easily. Such is usually the case when one tries to sleep when they aren't tired, and I was anything but tired. I was instead continuously anxious; the strangeness of it all had put me on edge, shaking me by the shoulders and screaming that something was wrong. I was paranoid and restless, wide awake within the dark and silent embraces of the night and a thick duvet, so it was no surprise that I heard the fridge when it opened from across the length of the penthouse.

I was sitting up in an instant, eyes staring blindly through the dark at nothing, looking and scanning instead with my ears, my body as still as a marble statue as I honed in on every little sound like a massive radar. Someone was in the kitchen and making an effort to be as quiet as possible, but there were still some things that couldn't be done silently no matter how hard you tried. There was the unmistakable rustling of plastic, the faint, nearly inaudible thuds of things being placed on the counter, followed by a startlingly loud clang of silverware against the tile floor, and accompanied by colorful swearing in a familiar and feminine voice. I crept out of my bed and fumbled my way through the dark to the door before grasping and turning the handle and opening it just a crack. I peeked out through it, shrouded in darkness as I beheld the hallway and living room. Light shone from the kitchen, giving further evidence to the validity of what I had heard. I saw no one at first, and after a few minutes had passed without change, I prepared to advance and investigate further. Right then, however, a shadowy silhouette appeared along the ground as a figure exited the kitchen, feet padding across tile before becoming muffled by the carpet of the living room. Caught in the light now, I could see that it was Elsa.

Her hair was down, mussed, and hung about and around her shoulders in chaotic disarray. It wasn't as wild as her bedhead, but it was obvious that she had been neglecting it. She was leaning back somewhat as she balanced a stack of jars of peanut butter, jelly, and double chocolate ice cream against her chest, securing them with her hands and her chin with intense concentration and determination. She carried a loaf of bread under her arm, a butter knife and spoon in her hand, and secured in her mouth by her teeth like a dog with a bone was a sizeable bar of chocolate, which I recalled her grabbing at the grocery store that afternoon when she thought I wasn't looking, knowing that I would probably disapprove. After all, she had already insisted on all of that ice cream.

I watched silently as she made her way across the room, feeling completely stunned on some level by her very presence. It had hardly been half a day and I already missed her terribly. What the hell was wrong with me? She disappeared over the threshold and came back a moment later to close the door. Something prompted her to look up after she grasped the handle and she looked straight at me, freezing my blood in my veins though luckily not literally. I wasn't sure if she could actually see me or if she was just looking at where I was, seeing only the crack in the door.

Her moment of hesitation graced me with a chance to behold her face. She had removed her makeup, revealing a smattering of freckles that were darker than I remembered, and showing that her eyes and nose were rimmed red from crying. The skin around her lashes, in fact, glistened with still-present moisture. She looked so lost, vulnerable, even more so that she often was when she was with me, revealing that she, in fact, possessed a multitude of masks.  _Do I do the same?_ I wondered, watching her as she cast her eyes to the ground, turned, and closed the door quietly behind her. I hoped that I would eventually get to ask her.

The next day was rather uneventful; Elsa still hadn't left her room, and with her newly acquired stockpile of food, I suspected that she wouldn't ever have to leave it for a while, even for the bathroom. Why did the master bedrooms always have to have one adjoined to them? I never thought I would have come to resent that. I stood in front of her door, debating whether or not I should knock. If her previous behavior was anything to go by, she wasn't going to say anything, and she wasn't likely to do so for a while.

I sighed and turned away to head to the kitchen, still hoping, even though I knew it was most definitely pointless, that the smell of breakfast would rouse her. After a quiet meal of waffles, eggs, and bacon, I fell back on old habits, using the seemingly infinite expanse of time on my hands to go through my usual security checks and procedures with obsessive and exhaustive levels of attention and detail. The suite was well built and quite secure, with the only exception unfortunately being a rather large one in the form of the living room's massive windows. Though they appeared to be quite thick, I wouldn't be willing to risk my charge's life on an assumption that it was entirely bulletproof. The fact that we were on the top floor of the tallest building in Arendelle had its perks though; there weren't any super desirable points for an assassin to snipe from, and the few that were could be easily monitored, or at least they would have been had I of had some cameras to use. Considering how the Agency's previous attempts at assassinating my charge had gone, however, it seemed rather unlikely that they'd even try to snipe her. They'd depended more on strange and roundabout plans involving the abilities of their superhuman agents than on conventional methods. It takes a superhuman to kill a superhuman, or so they seem to think.

I wondered idly if Elsa was just holed up in her room working and decided to check the study room that was included in the suite. It was a bit smaller than the one that she had at the manor, but was made out of dark woods and resembled her corporate office at Frost HQ. To my surprise, however, the metallic gray laptop still sat untouched in the center of the main desk. I wasn't quite sure what to make of it and left the room, closing the door back behind me.

Having grown tired of my attempt to stretch out security procedures, I fetched a rag from my luggage and retired to the couch in the living room before activating the TV through the touch interface on the glass coffee table. After turning the volume down to background levels, I pulled out my gun and began to disassemble it and subsequently clean it. Now was as good a time as any. It didn't take as long as it usually seemed to. Perhaps being rushed in the past made me more aware of each passing second and become anxious about how many of them passed as I went about my work. I eventually found myself half-melted into the couch, watching mindless programs without actually paying any critical attention to them at all.

I have no problem with the idea of simple living. In fact, I rather enjoy it. What's simple, however, isn't exactly the same thing as what's easy. Sure, you don't really have much of any obligations, no job to commute and spend your time with, no school or problems to worry about, and no one to distract or bother you. The only thing you have to worry about is yourself, and keeping yourself alive without the help of society and its countless amenities is, on its own, a full-time job with mandatory overtime that doesn't pay a dime. You're gathering wood, crafting tools and furniture, maintaining your shelter, hunting for food and maintaining said tools, and so much more. It was busy and exhaustive work, but there was always something to do and it was fulfilling. You slept long and well and looked forward to it; the hard work of the day made the peace and rest all the more worth it and fulfilling. It was that constant comfort of always having something to do that I enjoyed about that lifestyle. It was also what made being a bodyguard bearable for me, and the reason why this isolation was killing me inside. I was wasting away in front of a TV, reminiscing and feeling sorry for myself.

It was becoming difficult to tell whether or not I was upset by this or just generally depressed by being deprived of Elsa's company, suffering from withdrawal after months of what could be described as an addiction to her with frightening accuracy. I wanted to be near her at all times, she technically  _was_  hazardous to my health but I still hung on anyway, and now that she's gone, I feel like shit. Is that what love is? An addiction?

Grumbling, I got up, deciding that if I was going to really waste time doing nothing, I might as well do it getting some rest. I made my way to my room and passed the open door of the study before doubled back to it with confusion. I was quite sure that I had closed it behind me when I left earlier. I approached and entered slowly, and found that the laptop was gone. I laughed in surprise, half astounded and half amused; Elsa must have come in and retrieved it while I was on the couch and I didn't even notice it. The lowered temperature of the room was further evidence of her presence, and I could swear that I could faintly catch her scent in the chilled air. I grabbed the charging cable from under the desk, which she had forgotten after grabbing it. The desk itself allowed the device to charge inductively, but I doubted she had anything like that in her room. I went back out and placed it by her door, and another thought came to me, setting a warm smile across my face as I ducked into my room again to find my duffel bag. I found what I was looking for at the bottom. It was a soft and stuffed teddy bear with beady black eyes, curly light brown fur, and a little red bowtie. I could feel the memories returning to me as I held the stuffed animal.

" _But don't lose it. If you do, our treaty is off."_

A treaty to end a war of selfishness, given in the form of a gift.I couldn't help but smirk at the animal doll before tucking it under my arm with the charging cable and trudging over to the nightstand to scrawl a note on the memo pad.

_Our treaty is still in effect,_ I wrote. _Please come out, Elsa. I miss you._

I stared down at the message with the pen still held in my hand, my resolve wavering for a moment before I regained a handled over it and tore the sheet off of the pad. With my items finally prepared, I knelt before the door and laid them down in front of me, placing them gently like offerings to a shrine or flowers to a grave—No, not like that. Those morbid and melodramatic images implied that she was dead, that she wasn't coming out again. This wasn't like that, it was...it was just what it was. A plea for the return of my only real friend, who might even be turning into something more.

I lay awake in bed some time later, staring up at the ceiling in the darkness. I had an inkling of what was upsetting Elsa, but as the silence and isolation continued, I began to wonder if it was instead something else. She seemed healthy enough, if not a little upset, during my late-night glimpse of her, so she wasn't physically ill at least. Perhaps it was really an issue of the heart—not in the anatomical or medical sense, but in the spiritual and emotional idea of the heart. As I thought about it more and more, it began to make even more sense. Elsa always tended to bottle everything inside of her, closing herself off from everyone and drowning in her pain and stress alone underneath the weight of her burden because she cared too much to even consider letting someone else experience a fraction of her pain. What she needed wasn't medicine, or space, or even time. She needed comfort, a shoulder to cry on, and an apology, and I would be damned if there were anything that could stop me from doing that, even if I had to break down that door of hers. I would need another plan first though; that door was made of solid wood, and as I learned from my thorough security analysis of the premises earlier that day, the high-security locks weren't going to give out unless the door frame itself did as well, and there wasn't anything lying around that could break through the wood either.

I heard the knob of her door turn and fell still, stiffening and holding my breath. After a pause, I heard the crinkling of paper as Elsa picked up and read my note. She sniffled. A few rib-bashing heartbeats later, naked feet padded across the ground, and as I realized where she was going, I schooled myself into a convincing pose of faux relaxation as I imitated the appearance of sleep, closing my eyes just as my door creaked open. I heard her come in and when she came to a standstill, knew that she was standing right next to the nightstand. I could actually feel her body heat, which was a surprisingly hopeful sign. She was  _right there_. All I had to do was open my eyes and I would have been able to see her. She smelled of flowers. My heart was clenched in my chest; I was so close but still couldn't do anything. I feared that if she knew that I was conscious, she would run away to her room again, and who knew when I'd see her again. Her hand stroked through my hair, and I stifled my flinch of surprise at the welcome feel of her touch, automatically memorizing the fell of her hands within my brain, savoring and hanging onto what little it was that she had given me. Her soft caresses were joined by the gentle touch of her soft lips on my forehead.

"I miss you too, Kris."

I wanted to cry. I wanted to hold her, to touch her, to see her. I was so close, yet so far away. I felt moisture collect on my face and was worried that the were my own, revealing both my sorrow and my wakefulness, but she sniffled again, and those first few tears were joined by a few more as they fell. She wiped them away with a cool, gentle thumb and kissed me again, this time on the cheek where the drops of melancholy had landed. Her hair brushed against my skin as she leaned down toward my ear.

"I love you."

The fact that those three perfect words weren't my undoing right there and then were solid proof that I had more self-control than anyone else on the damn planet. With a last stroke of her hand, the tender and intimate sensation was gone, and another moment later, so was she. The door closed behind me with a soft click and was followed by the sounds of her gathering her tribute and retreating to her room like a turtle to its shell.

Her door closed and she was gone. I turned over, hiding in the darkness, and cried myself to sleep for the first time in twenty years.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh. That got really sad there at the end. Poor Kris. Since it is now practically 7 AM, I think I will just be updating on Thursdays instead of super late Wednesdays since that seems to already be the case anyway. See you in two weeks.


	17. Sublimation and Vaporization

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's finally here! I've super busy with life stuff these past few weeks with everything from college exams to moving everything back home for the summer and haven't had time to do anything else—much less write. Things have finally calmed down considerably, so we should be right back on track schedule-wise. Enjoy the long-awaited chapter!

One of the many things that unsettled the inhabitants of the frozen landscape was the dead quiet that hung in the air, leaving nothing but the whistling of wind and the shuffling scrape of tree branches against one another. All the other things, such as the tweets and cries of birds, the chirp of crickets, the hissing of cicadas, and the howls of wolves—sounds that had once composed and performed the stochastic and discordant harmony of nature's sublime symphony—had now either fled in vain to warmer lands or died within the cold embrace of snow. If anything was still alive, it was likely hunkered in a cave, living off of whatever it can find, much like the small group that now trudged through the frozen drifts in a sleet-laden forest of pine.

Olaf looked around "Don't you think we'd have better luck looking for roots or something?"

"Shut up, Olaf," Marshall hissed from the right, walking alongside him in a half crouch. His beady eyes scanned his surroundings, and he held a makeshift spear in a fur-wrapped hand—a long stick with a grip made from a wrapped belt and a combat knife that was secured to the business end with duct tape. He did his best to ignore the vertically challenged nuisance as it continued to chatter without much intention of stopping.

Kristoff grumbled internally. Why did they have to bring him? They had left him behind on the trip up the mountain, hadn't they? Why not now?

He sighed and turned to Anna, who walked on his left, crouched like Marshall, but instead of a spear, she wielded a sturdy-looking longbow. She already had an arrow nocked, leaving her ready to pull back and fire at a moment's notice—one of the many signs that she had done this many times before. Kristoff has his rifle, much to Anna's chagrin—which she most clearly expressed; they had practically played tug of war with the weapon back at the cave. Anna had won their petty scuffle, but Marshall stepped in and let Kristoff take the gun anyway, offering him both a silencer and some words of wisdom at the same time. "The wildlife is scarce enough as it is already. We don't need to give the remaining game another reason to flee." The mountain man couldn't help but agree.

Kristoff couldn't tell whether or not Anna was still grouching over their disagreement; the harshness of the wind and the world had sculpted her default grin into a stern, flat-lined frown, whittling away at her joy and innocence to the point that they now had to be forcibly pried and coaxed out of her in order to be seen. Even then, they were notably subdued when compared to her buoyant demeanor from before the Crash. Unless she was particularly excited about something—like she was about basically anything remotely related to her estranged sister—she was rather stoic.

Kristoff examined and compared their clothing. Years of living nomadically in the wilderness led the elements of Anna's dress to lend more towards tatterdemalion pieces that were crafted from the landscape and its dwindling supply of living flora and fauna. Deerskin boots tied off with plant fibers, a coat made of hide and lined with fur, and belts and vambraces made from hand-crafted leather protected her fair skin fairly well from the cold. Her trousers were synthetic though, and Kristoff could see the frayed edges of worn, full-body thermal underwear peeking out from her sleeves and collar. She was sinistral, and wore her warm hide mitten only her off hand while her left one was bare and calloused slightly from repetitive exposure. As the mountain man's eyes followed the taut and discolored skin of one of the redhead's facial scars, with his gaze starting near her ear and finishing on the set of her lips, he was surprised by how much she resembled Elsa; with paler skin and fairer hair, she could've easily passed for her older sister. On top of that, she now even had a mask of her own, one chiseled from volcanic and snow-blasted stone.

Anna glanced up at Kristoff impassively, having caught him staring at her from the corner of one of her teal eyes. "What?"

"It's nothing," he grumbled, turning away, and then grunting in pain as her gloved fist connected with his kidney in a sharp jab. He whipped around and glared down at her, feeling betrayed and appearing bewildered, while his hand covered the spot where she had him. He had no doubt that the attack was going to leave a nasty bruise; Anna had quite an arm. "What the hell was that f-"

"You know exactly what, ice-brain."

Kristoff regarded her curiously after registering her meaning. He was somewhat surprised by her coldness. "What's up with you?"

"What do you mean?" She snapped defensively, her expression incredulous.

"You're really tense."

She huffed through her nose, stirring the free strands of her hair. "I'm hunting. What did you expect?" She turned away from him and continued forward at a faster pace, somehow managing to still keep her steps almost silent.

Kristoff shrugged noncommittally, "Not this..."

"You'll scare the game away if you don't shut up," she admonished bluntly. "Don't make me send you back with Olaf."

The buck-toothed man perked up at the mention of his name, "What was that?"

"Nothing," Anna snapped dismissively. After a moment, she could feel eyes boring into the back of her skull and turned around again to glare back at Kristoff, who regarded her with a raised eyebrow and a lopsided frown, an expected reaction to hypocrisy.

Anna stumbled slightly as she walked into Marshall's massive hand that was splayed out in her path but quickly regained her bearings as she understood why he had stopped her. In a fluid motion, she slunk down on one knee into a full crouch, outstretched her bow arm—canting the weapon sideways to prevent the bottom end from digging into the snow—and pulled the rudimentary, yet undoubtedly deadly, weapon's wrapped string back remarkably far, showcasing the immense strength and balance that was coiled within her toned body. The fletching of the arrow rested against a callous on her freckled cheek, giving even further evidence of her experience as an archer. She settled her focused gaze on the forest before her, eyes hardened to flint by her concentration.

"Do you see it?" Marshall whispered, now hunkered down next to the bowwoman, spear clenched in his hand as he stared into the distance at the stunted form of a reindeer as it snuffled and searched the bark of the pines for the scarce scraps of lichen they sometimes held.

"Yeah," Anna clipped laconically.

Kristoff also prepared to aim, remembering how clumsy Anna always had been at the manor. He hoped to be able to get a second shot at the animal in the event that Anna missed and spooked the creature. By the time he had his gun raised and lined up its sights with the beast, however, he found the animal lying on its side in the snow, impaled through the eye and the brain with a familiar looking arrow, now splashed with crimson. It was a clean shot.

Marshall was already ahead, having started his approach toward the fallen animal the moment that the beast was down. Anna stood and began to follow her old bodyguard, looking back behind her as she smirked at Kristoff's bewildered expression.

"I'm not the clumsy little girl that you remember, Kristoff." She remarked with a grin, walking backwards for a few paces before she tripped, falling down onto her butt into the snow with a girlish yelp. The timing was perfect.

Kristoff merely chuckled while Olaf fell over laughing in a fit of hysterics, and an embarrassed Anna stood awkwardly, brandishing a naked finger at them, "You saw nothing! You hear me? Nothing!" She snatched up her fallen bow and slung it over her shoulder, doing her best to ignore the laughter that was at her expense, and stalked over towards Marshall, who had already started on the deer.

She frowned as she neared him, cocking her head to the side in slight surprise and puzzlement. "You're harvesting it now?" She asked, sparing a glance behind her at Kristoff and Olaf, the latter of whom was still laughing while the other merely regarded him with exasperation. They weren't paying attention to anything else. A hint of a smile graced Anna's lips as she turned around and came up behind Marshall, gently brushing a hand over his back. "It's freezing even more than usual out here; why don't we wait until-" She stopped short, and her eyes widened as she took in the sight in front of the large bodyguard from over his shoulder.

The reindeer was grotesquely emaciated, with multiple ribs and spinal vertebrae showing through thick but patchy fur along with the clear outlines of the skull and other bones. It additionally looked considerably smaller than it should have; based on the size of its antlers, it was most definitely not a calf. Anna hoped it wasn't a male; they were supposed to be even larger. "Oh jeez, there's hardly any meat on this one…"

"Goes to show just how bad things are out here; these animals have spent countless millennia adapting to  _thrive_ in these environments, but now..." he massaged his forehead with a worried hand, lips pursed with concern. "I'm not sure whether it's because of the altitude or if things are just getting generally worse…"

Anna sighed and crouched down next to him, leaning her body into his, the discrepancy in their sizes leading her to only be able to rest her head against his upper arm instead atop his shoulder. "We should probably get off of this mountain either way," she commented. Her bare hand brushed its way across the reindeer's coarse fur, tracing along the exposed form of its skeleton and feeling the exagerated undulating contours of its ribcage. "I don't like this."

"Neither do I. It's all the more reason for us to find Elsa and end this winter."

"Damn right." Anna smiled at the mention of her sister, the name itself and the memories associated with it holding enough power to rekindle the soft burning embers of her resolve and raise them into gallant, righteous flames. She moved to pick up the reindeer, but Marshall beat her to it.

"I got it," he assured her as he lifted and hefted the animal over his shoulder with relative ease, the latter note causing his frown to deepen. "This thing's even lighter than it looks; I'm surprised it was even still alive before we shot it."

"Something tells me it didn't have much longer anyway, even without our actions." She squeezed Marshall's hand tenderly before standing with him. They hardly ever had a chance to be alone with Olaf around and had to settle for whatever limited, intimate contact they could manage. If the valley below was just as scarce and malnourished as the mountain, they might not have very many more of those moments left. That scared Anna as much as the possibility of Elsa's demise.

— —

With the merciless and frigid wind making the outside air unbearably miserable, the hunting party soldiered through the forest, hoping that they were heading back to their cave. With the miniature blizzard raging, they couldn't depend on their old tracks and footprints, and had to instead rely on their memory and their bearings alone. Olaf marched in front, whistling with his arms swinging, Anna and Marshall walked behind him, the latter still carrying the reindeer carcass over his shoulder as if it were just a bony and furry pillow, and Kristoff held up the rear of the rhombic formation, keeping to himself. Seeing all three of the others together, he couldn't help but be reminded that he was still essentially an outsider; the others had lived and survived together for years in this frozen, tyrannical world ruled by the ice and snow, and he knew that they had undoubtably bonded during that time; the fact that they were still banded together after all that time didn't provide any room for an alternate possibility. Though he shared a connection with them through their common pasts, everyone's collective amnesia rendered that practically irrelevant.

The blizzard's intensity began to rise, decreasing their view distance from a few meters to a few feet. Anna cursed under her breath, and yelled over the wind, "It's picking up out here! I don't think we'll be able to find the cave in this!"

"So we're lost?!" Olaf asked.

She sighed "No, Olaf, we're not lost!"

"Sure sounds like it to me…"

Marshall adjusted the reindeer on his shoulder, taking care to prevent the antlers from swinging around too much. "We'll just stop once we find some other shelter and wait it out! It's not a big deal."

"And how are we going to find  _that_?" Olaf challenged.

Anna spotted something while peering through the storm, holding a hand—both of which were covered now—before her to stave off the barrage of sleet. She grinned, "With luck!"

Off a little ways in the distance, a rise of Earth and fallen trees made its appearance through a gap in the sleet-saturated winds. The small, half-covered hovel created an effective barrier against the harsh winds. "We can wait this out over there!"

After a quick rush towards the shelter, with the run intensified by their near blindness, the group finally cleared the storm and all dropped down within the temporary haven before sighing collectively. Anna then stood up again and started grabbing every stick, branch, and log that she came across, adding them to the growing bundle under her arm.

Kristoff frowned, "What are you doing?"

She looked back at him quizzically, "Preparing a fire? Y'know, 'Survival 101'? Basically? We also got a big lump of raw venison to deal with, remember?"

"Well, I know that."

"Then why the hell did you ask-"

"Oaken is still after us! Do you really want to give him a signal flare?"

Anna splayed her arms, glaring open-mouthed at Kristoff with incredulous disdain, "We're in the middle of a fucking  _blizzard,_ Kristoff! He's probably hunkered down somewhere too, and all this wind's just going to blow the smoke away before canyoenc an tell where it came from, not to mention that all the wood is dry and hardly will produce anyway and-"

"It's not worth the risk!" Kristoff yelled, cutting Anna off mid-ramble, and approached her. He reached for the kindling and found himself suddenly flying backwards as Anna shoved him roughly with a hand, only to have his freight train of thought ground to a halt and shattered like glass as a splitting pain blasted from the back of his head. His landing caused him to roll, and when his body finally settled, he groaned.

Anna huffed and continued with her work while Marshall regarded her with concern and Olaf practically waddled toward where Kristoff had fallen and peered over him.

"You alright, Sven?"

"I'm fine," Kristoff grumbled absently as he wobbled to his feet, "I've got a thick skull."

— —

Approximately ten minutes later, the quartet sat around a small, crackling fire. Just like Anna had said, there was hardly any smoke, and while that fact served to inflate her pride, it only made Kristoff's brooding even darker. Out of the four of them, he sat furthest from the fire, and consequently from everyone else, who, for the most part, left him alone to sulk. Marshall tended to their kill while Olaf watched, and Anna picked up the current journal, which they had brought with them, and cleared her throat before beginning.

— —

It is now day three of Elsa's self-enforced isolation. The gifts I had laid out last night are gone, like I had expected, but she still hasn't come out. Nothing worth mentioning happened today.

— —

Day four. All of the hope I had that her midnight confession from the other night was a sign signaling the conclusion of this hell was gone. I've decided that I'm giving her one more day, and after that, I'm going to find Anna. I can't take much more of this, and it's beginning to seem that I've fallen for Elsa much further and harder than I initially thought.

— —

After a lunch of thick and savory deli meats and gourmet cheeses pressed between the halves of a fresh, round, and thick bagel, all of which regretably—but unsurprisingly—tasted like sawdust without texture, I left the apartment for the first time in almost a week. As I had expected, Anna's suite was not only nearby, but directly across the hall. I strode up to it and knocked, hoping I didn't seem as agitated and uneasy as I felt. The door opened quickly, surprisingly so. Marshall stood before me, along with Anna, who was sticking out from underneath the crook of his arm, no doubt paused halfway through an attempt to beat him to the door. I took in Anna's expression as it shifted from surprise to concern. She had immediately picked up on the fact that something was wrong.

"Is Elsa okay?" She asked straightforwardly.

"Mentally? Probably. Emotionally? Definitely not, but physically? I'm honestly not really sure; I haven't actually seen her in four days."

Anna's eyes widened and she fully shoved her way in front of her bodyguard, craning her neck back to look up at my face, "How have you not seen her?! Where is she?"

"In her room. Behind a locked door."

Watching Anna's face as it fell was akin to staring in tragic, helpless awe at a commercial jetliner as it careened into the ground, becoming decimated in a blast of morbid and fatal fire, shrapnel, and smoke, accompanied by a heart-wrenching shockwave and a particular feeling of misery that would be best described with that very situation. Without a word, the sullen redhead marched past me, lifting my keycard as she passed without a glance, activated my door and entered the suite Elsa and I shared. I moved to follow but was held back by a firm grip on my shoulder, and turned to see Marshall shake his head slowly. "This is something she needs to do alone." Memories of Elsa's tales returned to me; the few stories that she had told provided quite a lot of insight into both her and Anna's childhoods. I knew Marshall was right and sighed, straightening again, and he released my arm. "Sorry," he apologized guiltily.

I turned, puzzled, "For what?"

"That was your injured arm, wasn't it?" I opened my mouth to say something but stopped, the gears in my brain taking priority as I realized that he was once again correct. I hadn't felt any pain though. Yes, the wound was mostly healed now, but some soreness, pain, or at the very least some mild discomfort should have been present after being yanked like that, and yet there was nothing. Feeling too preoccupied with Elsa's apparent decision to become a reclusive hermit or something, I wasn't able to dwell on the oddity of my own injuries and instead just shook it off. "It's fine. I'm fine..." I massaged my temples with my eyes squeezed shut as I groaned, "Actually no. I'm not fine. At all."

I heard Marshall exhale with a chuckle and looked up to see him wearing a knowing smile, lightly doused with empathy and sprinkled with a hint of what appeared to be wistfulness. "This is always the hardest part of the job, and yet it's ironically also the easiest, in a way. There's nothing you have to do, but there's also nothing you  _can_ do."

He had hit the nail on the head, and it led me to wonder. I looked back toward the door that led to Elsa's suite. "Has Anna ever..." I trailed off, knowing that he'd understand what I was referring to.

"Not nearly to this extent," he replied without skipping a beat, shaking his head, "But she's had her share of...moments." He too looked on toward the door where his charge had disappeared through. "She can be so selfless, offering her heart to anyone and everyone who seems to need it, but she often gives much more than she receives. Sometimes they give her very little on purpose, sometimes not, and other times she merely fails to remember that she matters too."

"You seem to know her very well."

He regarded me oddly, again wearing that crooked smile, "Well I  _am_  her bodyguard, Bjorgman. I have been for quite a few years, in fact; she doesn't go through us nearly as quickly as Elsa does. Is it really that strange that we'd be close? That's quite an odd thing to hear from  _you_ especially." My suit jacket was feeling oddly warm all of a sudden. I looked back toward the door to hide my face, simultaneously trying to inconspicuously release the trapped heat and changed the subject. "Anna's been in there for a while," I pointed out. My voice was a little strained. I was willing to bet that my face was red too. At least he couldn't see it.

"That's probably a good sign. If Elsa had outright refused her, she'd have been back out rather quickly."

That was probably true, but the ever-present paranoid part of me—which has actually done much more good than harm as of late—couldn't help but feel on edge, or more than normally, at least. "How long do you think we should give them?"

Marshall shook his head. "You need to relax. The building's secure, and if someone were already hiding in there, you'd probably have noticed by now."

"You shouldn't make assumptions so readily. That's always how things will go wrong."

Marshall was laughing again and I turned, not really feeling amused. "What?" I snapped.

"I'm starting to see why you've lasted so long in your position. You and Elsa are much more alike than you realize. She doesn't take shit from anybody and doesn't normally like to take risks. Her standards are high as well, and that's just the start of it."

"And how do you know all of that?" I challenged, still feeling a bit defensive.

He shrugged, "She's practically all Anna ever really talks about, and after what happened to the two of them as kids, I can't say I'm surprised." He scratched the back of his neck nervously, "I was also one of her previous bodyguards."

Well, that was news. "When?" I asked, rather surprised; Elsa didn't talk much, or at all really, about the people who last held my position. Then again, she  _had_  technically killed one of them, and another has already tried to kill her and was probably planning another attempt as we spoke, standing in an exposed hallway, out of sight of my charge. A perfect opportunity.

"I served under her for a few months some years ago," Marshall continued, not even aware of the potentially mounting threat. "Once she had grown tired of all my mistakes, she had decided to fire me, but Anna offered to take me instead. Elsa didn't really argue with her at all about it. She hardly even said anything at all and seemed anxious to placate her sister just so that she could avoid her." He frowned as he finally noticed my distant gaze. "Are you even listening?"

I turned on a heel and headed for the door. "It's been too long. I'm going in."

"I'm not sure if that's a good idea, they-"

"He who suspects everything will eventually be right. Besides, something about this doesn't sit well with m-" I had tried the handle and as I patted my pockets, I remembered that Anna stole my keycard. "Shit."

"Use this one." Turning around, I found Marshall handing another card to me, looking solemn. He clearly disagreed with my actions, but complied with cooperative resignation anyway. "Anna had a second card requested. I suppose she was just too impatient and preoccupied to remember it when she went inside earlier."

"Typical," I muttered and subsequently nodded my thanks as I took the card. I stepped in front of the solid wood portal and took a deep breath before entering.

The keycard worked just as expected, no sinister or ominous phenomena seeming apparent, but I drew my sidearm anyway as I passed the threshold, not willing to take any chances; we were quite overdue for a hostile encounter. I could hear quiet whispers, hushed not by a need for discretion, but by the sheer weight of the words they spoke to one another.

As I stepped into the room, I beheld a morbidly familiar scene. Every surface of the high-ceilinged space was covered in ice, even the windows, and cast murky and distorted light upon the room, giving it a surreal underwater appearance. The two sisters sat on the couch in the center. Elsa had her eyes closed, her lashes and the skin around them glinting with shed tears, and Anna had her back to me and her hands wrapped over her sister's. Neither of them seemed to have noticed me yet. Though the state of the room should have told me enough, I failed to consider the floor and consequently stepped on a patch of ice, which fractctured into a crooked, radiating lattice with a resounding crack.

The two women's heads instinctively snapped around in an instant, and a pair of wide, red-rimmed teal irises locked onto me while Elsa only seemed to aim her head in my general direction. She still hadn't opened her eyes. Anna turned to her sister and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "It's okay, Elsa. It's just Kristoff."

Evidently, that was  _not_ okay. Elsa whimpered, and quickly made to move off the couch and away from me, stumbling blindly and clipping herself on an end table as she tried to retreat to her room. To the astonishment of her witnesses, she then slipped on her own ice, falling flat on her face.

"Elsa!" Anna rushed over, crouching next to her sister to try and help her up, but the stubborn blonde pushed her away weakly, or rather tried to; her hand had missed entirely. By that point, it was fairly obvious to me what was going on.

I strode across the icy floor and Elsa began to shake her head vigorously, somehow sensing my approach. "No! Stay away!" she cried and stood to try and flee again. When Anna grabbed her, a horrified and hurt expression of betrayal crossed the eldest's face.

"We need to talk, Elsa," I stated.

"What more is there to say?" She retorted cynically, futilely trying to yank her arm out of Anna's grasp. "It can't change what already is."

"How the hell can you know it won't change anything if you won't even try?!" I found myself yelling and felt one of Anna's small warm hands on my arm. She had come forward to stand before me, between Elsa and me.

She looked up at me with worried eyes, "Kristoff, I don't think-" I brushed past her without waiting for her to finish, stalking now with boiling resolve towards Elsa, who, upon being released by her sister, had resulted to cowering on the floor, hunched over with her legs bunched up, secured tightly by her arms, and her head hiding her face with her knees. I dropped down onto the ice as I grasped her by the shoulders, causing her to flinch, and her already agitated breaths accelerated further in frequency.

"You  _need_ to tell me what's wrong! I can't protect you if I don't know how."

"You don't know how?" she parroted darkly, her head cast to the floor. Her words filled the air, and were ominous enoughto keep anyone else from saying anything. "If you don't know how to do your job, then there isn't any reason for you to have it." She stood and turned away, her posture as straight and unyielding as a steel beam. "Pack your things and leave."

I wasn't sure if I had heard her correctly—or so I told myself. On some level, I knew that it was just denial. I didn't want to hear her say that. "What?"

She began to leave the room, stumbling, but trying her best to suppress it. She didn't turn around and recited her next words in a disconnected and mechanical tone. "Give your firearm, silencer, ammunition, earpiece, and access cards to Marshall on your way out. You are dismissed."

I caught a waver in her voice. It was barely there, but present nonetheless, and I had been both around and close enough to her for so long that it was impossible not to notice. Something became clear then, dissipating a large portion of the murky fog that had settled over us. I knew what she was trying to do. "Fine," I replied, trying my hardest not to sound angry or shocked. She stopped short, as I had hoped, and that moment of hesitation from her was all that I needed. "That doesn't really change anything," I stated.

"How?" She turned to try and face me, her expression appearing virtually impassive behind a facade, with the chips and cracks in it ringing out to me clear as day and as loud as thunder, manifested in the faint microexpressions that countless others always failed to see. She was barely keeping it together; her retreat was for her own sake.

I stepped forward. "Like I've told you before, I'm here because I  _want_  to be, not for the paycheck, the publicity, or even the exotic experience of being the bodyguard to a billionaire." I smiled gently. "I'm here for the same reason that Anna is," I continued, gesturing toward her as I spoke, "the only difference was that you had pushed her away."

I could almost hear the crackling of her mask, and if my mind hadn't rationalized it as the sound of her spreading ice, I would have believed it. Her lip quivered.

"I don't need the job, Elsa. I'm here to protect you because I love you."

Elsa stopped breathing. She looked so small just then, vulnerable and confused. The ice around her eyes and belkow her feet began to thicken. "Then why did you-" she clammed up and flushed red, too flustered and embarrassed to finish her sentence in present company. "Anna, could you...step outside for a moment? Please?"

Anna was taken aback, but nodded slightly, obligingly but also bewildered, and left the room with haste, looking back over her shoulder at the two of us one last time before she exited and closed the door behind her.

Elsa slid to the floor, her legs folding under her as she stared, blindly, into the distance. A long pause ensued. Elsa pursed her lips and attempted to rebuild the courage that she knew she would need in order to say what she needed to say. She swallowed thickly, looking downcast, and spoke a tired and resigned voice. "Where did I go wrong?"

"You didn't."

Her brows furrowed over sealed eyes, "But you- I don't..."

I sat down before her with crossed legs and rubbed my face with my hands, "It's my fault, Elsa. I was nervous and uncomfortable like I had said when we...last spoke—I admit that fully—but it wasn't your fault." My hands dropped to my lap and fiddled with each other. "I hadn't ever been in a position like that. I've never..." I sighed, frustrated by my failure to put together my words.

"Never?" She seemed to have understood what I had meant, and sounded surprised. Her tone was also tentative, reminding me of a turtle peeking out from its shell.

I shrugged somewhat helplessly, "I've generally preferred my solitude—not that I don't, um...enjoy your company, it's just…" I sighed deeply and scratched the back of my head, feeling fidgety. I rocked slightly to try and relieve the discomfort I felt from the tile that was  _literally_  freezing cold. "I don't mean that I don't  _want_  you like that, I'm just...not ready, I think."

"Are you sure? I don't mean about being ready, I…" She trailed off with her face flushed like a beet.

"I mean what I say; I'm not sure how else to be." I reached out across the gap that was between us and covered her hand with mine. I found myself smiling at the sensation of warmth that emanated from it and was suddenly emboldened by an idea. "Why don't we take care of  _this_ ," I suggested as I brushed a thumb across the ice that covered her eyes and failed to suppress a grin as the pieces began to thaw and break apart against my skin. Her eyes blinked out the rest and stared up at me. They were wide, shining, and the most perfect and divine shade of blue that has ever existed on this earth. We stared at each other as if we were seeing each other for the first time, now bathed in a warm and intimate light, devoid of the shadowy barriers of conflict. I could hear her breathing, could see the condensed mist of her breath as it left her with each and every exhale, and could felt that same cool breath as it washed over me.

"I love you," she blurted suddenly, unsure of what else to say, and quickly lunged at me, proceeding quickly to make up for what she had deprived the both of us of for almost a week. She met no resistance.

— —

Anna smiled as she read, once again not realizing that she had been doing so silently. By this point, no one else really seemed to care; the journals were much more for her than they really were for anyone else, sans Kristoff. After all, it was  _her_ sister that they were looking for. "It's always nice to see things resolved."

"I think that would depend on which perspective you're talking about."

The voice was unfamiliar, yet somehow not, and everyone's heads snapped up and around to the figure that had appeared to them through the blizzard. He was dressed in synthetics, lined with faux fur, and had his hood raised, hiding his face from view. He was dusted with snow, though not as much as he should have been; He clearly hadn't been out in the storm for very long at all.

The group armed themselves quickly, and the man merely chuckled, raising his hands. Kristoff had the man's shadow-doused head in his sights. "Who the hell are you?"

"Ah, forgive my manners; they've become quite rusty in these frigid times, as I'm sure you can imagine." He flipped back his hood with a gloved hand, revealing a defined yet elegant nose, green eyes, sideburns, and clean-cropped auburn hair. He took in the group's shocked responses with a deceptively genuine smile, "My name is Hans, and  _I_  have something that you want."


	18. Vertigo

For such a small town, Arendelle was surprisingly busy at night. The lights of the cars and other transports shifted and passed through, across, and around a dotted mosaic of midnight shadow and moonlit steel. With the darkened, snow-covered peaks of the land around the fjord serving as an idyllic, wintry backdrop for the snow-laden settlement, it was nearly impossible to believe that it wasn't even July yet. It was a magnificent view, indeed, but was nothing compared to the sight that lay beside me, the embodiment of grace and beauty who was currently leaned up against my shoulder, peacefully at rest. The rather melodramatic finale of this past week's torturous ordeal had left her both exhausted and relieved. Hell, I would have been surprised if she  _hadn't_  fallen asleep already. A smile stretched its way across her unconscious face, and she snuggled further into my side, drawing a matching grin out of me.

My work phone buzzed insistently, and I stared down at where it lay in my pocket, puzzled, before looking back up at Elsa. She was the only person who ever called me on it, and the only numbers that were even stored on it were hers, Anna's, Marshall's, Kai's, as well as the main line for the estate. As far as I knew, they were also the only ones in possession of my number.

I shifted carefully to reach the seizing device, doing my best not to wake the blonde who was literally on my arm, and picked it up before to unlocking it only to have to slam my eyes shut like bulkheads against the sudden and blinding solar flare of light that emanated from the small screen in the darkened room. I grumbled irritably; the ambient light sensor embedded in it should have detected the low light levels and adjusted, or so one would have thought. With squinted eyes, I pulled up the notifications bar to find another odd surprise. The sender's number was not logged within the phone's contacts but instead traced back to a number connected to Pabbie Terran from Intelligence. The message itself was as brief as it was ominous.

_Out front, 0000 hours. We need to talk. Bring Arendelle only._

On one hand, it was reassuring to know that he had survived the incident at the manor, but on the other was an unfocused, yet unbelievably powerful, feeling of paranoia. Then again, when did I ever  _not_  feel that way? I sighed, and gently shook my charge in an effort to rouse her.

"Elsa."

"Mm." She was awake, but not going anywhere.

"We may have a situation."

Her arms encircled my waist as she buried her face into it. "Then we can have it in the morning," she retorted groggily, voice distorted and muffled even further with her face pressed into me.

"Not this one," I countered grimly.

She picked up on the graveness of my tone and looked up at me, blinking her way to the surface of consciousness as she stared up at my face in the dark. "What's wrong?"

"I don't know yet. I received a text from Terran on the work phone."

"Terran? The head of the intelligence network?" She frowned, brows knit together in an expression that was as commonplace as her neutral facial state. "But his number's not in your phone..."

"Exactly. He wants to arrange a meeting."

She pursed her lips soberly, fully awake now, and pat my thigh before sitting up. "Fine. Bring your gun."

I got up off the couch and straightened my jacket and collar. "I always do."

— —

All of the lights were still on in the lobby, making it as bright as it was in the middle of the day. In contrast with the luminescent interior, the darkness of the night was darkened even further, appearing pitch black. We stalked through the vaulted chamber, paying no one else any heed while hoping they did the same. No one so much as looked up.

"The disguise is working much better than I had expected."

"I'll say." Elsa coughed into her gloved hand and spoke again in a deeper and gruffer voice, "I mean uh, yeah."

I smirked as I glanced down at her. A pair of worn and baggy denim trousers, held up with a belt cinched around her waist as much as possible and stuffed into sturdy looking boots, along with an old gray hoodie that was several sizes too big and hung off her shoulders, enveloped and concealed her form, hiding her curves as well as her hair and face. A beanie was placed on her head underneath it as a precaution, aviators hid her feminine eyes, and leather gloves hid her manicured hands. I had tried to explain to her beforehand that we really didn't need to go so overboard with the whole disguise thing, but Elsa didn't want to take any chances. The last thing we needed right now was a mob of fanatic townspeople.

"I hadn't thought you would have taken to cross-dressing," I teased with a smile, mirroring her own words, and glanced down at her. I felt a sense of mirthful accomplishment as I watched her face redden and attempt to slide and hide further in her oversized, borrowed clothes.

"Don't you even dare," she muttered stubbornly as we passed through the front doors.

The night air was bitterly chilly, as expected, though the preconceived knowledge did naught to ease my reaction to it. Elsa was unaffected, of course, and used that moment reversed for recovery to instead begin searching for our contact.

"Where are we to meet him?" She asked quietly in a rough imitation of a young man's voice

I shrugged as I dug my phone out of the inside of my jacket. "The text just said 'out front,' he didn't really say anything else," I replied, double-checking Pabbie's cryptic message.

Elsa huffed but spoke up a moment later as her cerulean eyes caught something. "There's a woman staring at us. Across the street."

I looked up and scanned the sidewalks in vain.

"The van," Elsa corrected.

"Ah."

A woman was indeed staring at us. Golden bangs jutted out from underneath a beanie like a truncated waterfall, the edge of a tattoo—I couldn't tell what it exactly it was of in the bad lighting—peaked out from the collar of her dark green coat, and she wore black ear gauges along with dark lipstick. She gazed out at us passively but unyieldingly from the driver's seat of a van with blacked-out passenger windows. It wasn't Pabbie, of course, or anyone else that I had seen before for that matter, but she nodded when our eyes met, as if in confirmation of some unspoken inquiry. I grabbed Elsa's hand before preparing the cross the street, and to my surprise, she tried to extricate herself from my grip. I stopped and turned to her, confused. "What?"

"Did you forget I'm supposed to be a man right now?" she hissed.

"Did you forget what year it is?" I countered quizzically with a raised eyebrow. "I hardly think anyone would care. Or even should." I clasped her hand again, and when she didn't protest, I set off again with her beside me.

We went around the van to the side facing away from the street, and the front passenger window rolled down silently to reveal a backlit, stern-faced, and beardless man with light brown hair, dark brown eyes, and a muted green fishing hat with a scarlet feather in it along with another random pins. He looked us up and down, lips pursed and moving around slowly, almost like he was chewing something.

"Isn't Arendelle supposed to be a girl?"

Elsa flipped up her hood, removing the beanie and shades at the same time in a single, fluid motion, revealing her stern, lightly freckled face and platinum blonde hair. The man in the van nodded and rapped his knuckles on the partition behind him, prompting the side door to slide open on its own. The dim lighting revealed a short, squat, and heavily lined man with straw-like hair on a bench mounted sideways in the back of the van. Another was across from it, creating a central aisle down the middle that both of the long rows of seats faced. Pabbie smiled grimly, sitting with his chin resting on folded hands that were in turn resting on his forearms as Elsa and I boarded the vehicle.

The door was closed behind us loudly and the driver took off immediately, almost knocking us over as the van accelerated before giving us a chance to sit down first; I even had to catch Elsa before she fell. Pabbie chuckled half-heartedly as we attempted to regain our balance, smiling in an odd and distant way, wearing an uncomfortable and subdued grin visible only in intermittent intervals as his face was graced by the limited, orange night lighting of the street lamps that passed through the back window. I felt my heart begin to race as an intuitive sense of uneasiness began to take hold within me. The room started to cool, along with my grip on Elsa's shoulder.

"Well," Terran began, "that was rather easy."

Everything happened at once then, an explosive flurry of activity. I swore and grabbed Elsa's waist before rushing for the back doors, all of the pieces snapping together as one with audible clarity. Two men, unseen in the shadows, grabbed me and pulled me away into the darkness, holding me back and tearing me away from Elsa. She screamed and I twisted around violently in a vain attempt to free myself, receiving only a fist in the face as a response.

"Elsa!" I yelled, tasting my blood as it ran from my nose and entered my mouth.

Elsewhere in the darkness, skin brutally impacted skin, leaving the details and extent to the imagination. A familiar masculine grunt sounded out afterward. "Chill out blondie! Jeez!"

I squinted in the darkness, struggling to recognize the vaguely familiar speaker through the darkness, the zipping coral lights of the passing street lamps, and the rough tussling that had me wrenched everywhere in the van as it intensified along with my steadily more desperate struggles. I blindly whipped out an elbow, and was granted with the satisfying pressure and smack of an impact, followed by the unexpected bonus of a heavy metal clang and a pained exclamation as my adversary was thrown into the wall of the van, the entirety of which rocked roughly from it.

A sudden, piercing screech of metal that shook everything much more violently was followed by streams of light as the walls and roof of the van were breached, revealing the several pillars of ice that had emanated from the center of the space and savagely speared their way through the metal walls of the vehicle along with the flesh and bone one of our attackers. The unfortunate man screamed in hysterical, panicked agony as gravity mercilessly slid him further and further down the inclined, blood-splattered icicle inch by fatal inch. More of the frozen pillars began to blast outward, one nearly missing my head. Another went straight down, and as it pierced the floor of the van and managed to catch the racing ground below, we were all thrown toward the front as the entire vehicle pitched forward, followed by an abrasive, brutal scraping sound as loud as a jet engine as the ventral pillar dragged underneath us. I noticed the ice just as it finished crawling all over the surface of the van, inside and potentially outside. It had all escaped everyone's notice in the dark heat of the moment.

"Shit! Tink, do it now!" A voice yelled from up front. The scraping stopped for a moment as the van suddenly began to lift, but it was short-lived, and the vehicle smashing back down, only to rise again and do it all over again.

"What the hell is going on?" I heard myself grumble as I struggled to maintain my footing within the chamber, which was nearly impossible, as I was always airborne before I could get even close to stabilizing and then fell back down hard onto the cold, metal floor of the van, landing each time directly on either my face, my chest, elbows, or knees. The ice around me was shining brightly, a strange golden, twinkling brightness that lit up the chamber and revealed the face of the large man who was restraining me. My eyes went wide as I looked up and recognized his bearded face.

"Oaken?"

His own eyes widened in surprise as he absorbed the fact that I could see him, and then we were airborne again, bracing ourselves, only this time we didn't land. The brightness had increased, leading everything to shine like a million stars. The van was now slowly rotating, pitching forward at steeper and steeper degrees. I whipped around and stared out the back window in confusion only to receive more of it as I beheld the skyline beyond and the streets at far below.

"What the fuck?!"

Somehow, some way, the van was flying, spinning as it went as if it was no longer under the influence of gravity.

I wanted to deny it, as it was absurd—ridiculous even—but there it was, in front of me and around me, and as the pragmatic and deceptive veil of what was commonly believed to be true and possible was drawn back further once again, I was surprised to find that I was calm this time. Somehow, the blatant disregard for Newtonian physics that was staring me in the face was easier to grasp than the concept of cryokinesis. Go figure.

The van was sideways now, the back doors positioned upwards, sending everyone towards the front and the mess of icy spikes that Elsa had unleashed except Pabbie, who was buckled in and dangling from his seatbelt, eyes closed as if in some sort of meditative state as he rode out whatever the hell it was that was happening around us. Elsa huddled beneath her frozen defenses as everyone collided with them. As Oaken stood again to try and rush me, I backed up, grabbed Elsa's arm and pulled her up before securing her to me with a possessive and protective hand wrapped around her waist. I drew my gun from my jacket before aiming it at the giant's face. He surrendered immediately, and as everyone witnessed the standoff, the slowly-rotating chamber was bathed in silence.

When I spoke, breath labored from exertion, my eyes were on my target, but my words were aimed at the wizened  _traitor_  who hung above us like a bat. "Why, Terran? What the hell did they give you that you were shallow enough to betray us for?!"

He chuckled, and I saw him look down at us out of the corner of my eye. "The truth," he said simply.

The van was now rotated halfway between vertical and upside-down. I glanced down, toward the front, past the driver and the passenger—both of whom seemed relatively unaffected by the unexplainable rotation—and saw rooftops below. The ground was even farther away than before, frighteningly so, we had to have been at least a hundred meters in the air already. I was hopefully still running out of time, as the only alternative was that it was already too late.

With a growl, the desire to escape won out against my need to question the shameless man who had betrayed us, and I turned away. I unlocked the side door, released Elsa momentarily, and fought against gravity as I half opened, half lifted the sliding door with both hands. I was met with the howling siren song of the wind along with strange golden particles of dust upon my success, but I paid neither of them any mind. None of our assailants moved or in any way attempted to stop me as I opened the door; their eyes were all still fearfully trained on my handgun even though it wasn't even aimed at them. There was nothing more unreliable than untrained muscle.

I ignored them and looked over the edge of the van. The van's forward velocity still hadn't lessened, apparently, and the cold air blew fiercely, crashing against me like a swarm of frenzied hornets. I tugged Elsa back toward me and glanced back at our attackers, who stared back at us with a mix of frustration, terror, and confusion. Their hair and clothes were whipping in the swirling wind as they watched me back toward the edge with Elsa, who luckily still had her senses. As she stared back at me though, she didn't seem to be convinced that I had mine.

"What the hell are you doing?" She hissed.

I merely stared back at her, face set, steeling myself for what I was about to do, and her eyes widened at the nonverbal message.  _Trust me._

"More will come for you, you know," Terran piped up.

"No need to state the obvious," I muttered, and before I had another moment to hesitate or reconsider the idea, I wrapped my arms around Elsa and jumped from the van.

" _What the hell is wrong with you?!_ " Elsa screeched at me over the wind.

"Just make some snow! Lots of snow!" I yelled back. If she could just manage to create a sizeable pile of snow for us to land on, we would have a rather soft landing. It would be like landing on a pillow…Probably. Perhaps this wasn't such a good idea after all.

Elsa then made the mistake of looking down, and at once the remaining slivers of her composure that she had been holding onto thus far were splintered and reduced to ash. As she started to flail and scream, and as the ground slowly expanded with its approached, a cold feeling of doubt began to settle into my stomach, followed shortly by yet another burst of adrenaline.

I turned to Elsa and saw her staring with her eyes still glued to the ground, terrified. She wasn't even screaming anymore.  _Goddamnit, don't go into shock! Not now!_  "Elsa!" I yelled, trying to shake her. I released her, and she spun onto her back. To my relief, the newfound panic somehow sparked her back again, along with her cries, and I grabbed her face before forcing her to look up at me. "Elsa, I need you to make snow for us to land on! Can you do that?" She nodded weakly and I exhaled, "Good! Because if you can't, we are both going to die, and I rather like being alive."

She nodded quickly, and after taking a breath to arrive at some level of focus, she started swirling her hands. It was a good thing I had her on her back; she couldn't see how close to the ground we already were.

A couple seconds later, I could easily see the cracks in the sidewalk and my eyes widened. Elsa saw my reaction and immediately threw her hands behind her and below us, launching a swirling ball of light blue magical energy that exploded on the ground before expanded into a mountain of snow like an inflatable marshmallow. I gripped Elsa's shoulders and did my best to flip us around so that I would cushion her landing.

The powdery surface of the snow compacted into the density of concrete on impact—or felt like it, at least. As we sunk into it with the sudden jerk of deceleration, most of the pile's mass was blasted out around us, scattering across the street and even knocking a few people over.

I felt a vise clamping down around my chest and struggled to open my eyes. Elsa was pressed into me, her arms constricting my torso. Her eyes were still squeezed shut, and she appeared to be holding her breath.

"Did it work?" She whispered.

"I think we're still alive so I'd say yeah…"

She laughed in relief and dropped her head onto my chest and exhaled deeply. "Good. Let's not do this again."

After a mad dash through the streets that probably attracted a lot of attention, Elsa and I finally made back to our room at the hotel and immediately began packing. It went relatively quickly; most of what we could actually take with us hadn't really been unpacked in the first place. Hardly half an hour later, I was standing on the threshold of Elsa's bedroom and knocked on the open door.

"You ready yet?" I asked.

There was no response.

I peeked inside to find her pathetically curled up on the luggage-covered bed, wither her arms drawn around gathered knees. I frowned somberly. "Elsa, we really need to go."

"Can you just...hang on for a minute? I-" I sighed sympathetically at her wavering tone and dropped my pack on the ground before coming over to sit down on the edge of the bed. It was unfortunately rather easy to forget that the majority of others weren't at all used to coping with near-death experiences. In combat, those cases were usually the  _lucky_  ones, as the alternative was far more grim and absolute.

"Sorry," I said softly.

We sat there in silence, and I rubbed her tense shoulder with a hand, feigning calm as the paranoia returned. They were coming. We both knew it. Our location was compromised, more agents would undoubtedly be coming for us, and they may already be en route.

I turned to Elsa, "Should we tell Anna before we-"

"No."

I was a little taken aback by her bluntness. "Are you sure? She has a right to know. Maybe she should come with us."

"No."

I sighed, exasperated and becoming impatient. "If they catch her, and they likely will, they're going to use her to get to you. Surely you know that."

"I also know that if she goes with us, they'll kill her along with us," she countered and drew tighter into herself. "Even if she does get captured, she'll still be alive when I turn myself in."

"Like  _hell_  you're doing that."

She smiled thinly at me before casting her gaze down again. "It would be my decision."

"And it would be  _my_  decision to stop you."

She sighed, too tired to argue any further, and glanced back and forth between the bed and the luggage. "Can we wait until morning?"

"It  _is_  morning," I replied, glancing at my watch, which read 1:04 AM.

She leaned over and dropped onto her side. Her head rested in my lap. "Smartass," she muttered.

"Regardless," I began, serious again, "we need to leave as soon as we possibly can."

"I know." She stood and returned to packing, and I assisted, folding clothes and other items before stuffing them into her bag.

"We should at least tell her either way," I pressed.

"Fine, but we leave alone."

She looked up to catch my amber eyes with stern blues, and her own widened a little when she saw my smile. "We won't be alone if we're together, Elsa," I reminded her

She blushed as she smiled and reached for my hand, squeezing it gently. A giggle burst out of her and she casted her flustered gaze downward as she began to laugh despite herself. "Oh my god, that was so  _corny_!"

"At least I wasn't the first one to say it-"

There was an odd knock at the front door, and we were silent in an instant. I reached for my gun as I crept toward the room's exit. Elsa tugged on my arm, and I turned to her. She appeared to be in thought, and as she pursed her lips, I noticed that it wasn't a fearful gesture, but a nervous one. An anxious one.

"It's Anna. That's her knock." She stepped past me, and I followed her to the door with my gun still drawn. The moment Elsa turned the handle, the door burst open, admitting a wild-haired redhead inside before she slammed the door. She was in tears, glaring but crying as she looked Elsa up and down, noticing that she was fully dressed, and her heart sank, visibly expressed through the droop in her shoulders, the quivering of her lips, and the rigidness of her jaw.

"You're leaving…" Her tone was accusatory, and not lessened by the emotional wavering of her voice.

"That's how it has to be," Elsa replied quietly, hardly able to meet her sister's gaze. "And before you ask, you can't come with us."

"I wasn't going to  _ask_ , Elsa! I'm not going to let you abandon me!"

"And I won't let you burden yourself with my fate!" Elsa wiped at her eyes before the tears could fall, and turned away, stalking back to her room. "And I won't let you share it..."

"Elsa!" Anna tried to follow, and I grabbed her arm to stop her. She gazed back at me in shock, her eyes wide, her expression vulnerable, and distraught. I knew then that she felt I had betrayed her, and in a way, I suppose I had. I watched in muted horror as her despair twisted and mutated into a snarl and a grimace, and she wrenched herself from my iron grip, turning to pursue again, only for me to grab her again.

"Kristoff! Let me go!"

""You can't go after her!"

"Like hell I can't!"

Elsa emerged from her room with our bags, tossed mine to me and headed for the door. Anna escaped me and rushed her sister, only to be stopped abruptly, she looked down to find her feet and shins encased in ice, freezing her to the ground. Her fury and rage melted away, leaving desperation in its wake.

"No! Elsa!"

The blonde didn't turn around as she opened the door and stepped over the threshold before stopping. I took my cue and followed her.

"Don't leave me, Elsa! Don't-" her protests dissolved into sobs, and she stood as she broke down, unable to collapse with her legs welded down by frost.

"Goodbye, Anna."

— —

He laughed once. Actually laughed out loud as he finished reading the last page of the bound journal. It was oddly forced—not against his own will but in a way that seemed unnatural. It was as if he didn't truly understand how to laugh but had attempted to anyway. It was unhinged and unsettling, and it ended as suddenly as it started. Hans tossed the book to the ground carelessly, like a discarded wrapper, and extracted a scratched, metal case from his pocket before drawing and lighting a cigarette from it.

"Quite a lot of drama there, such sacrifice, but also such  _selfishness_ , I mean, wow!" He took a puff on the flaming rod and turned to the small group of onlookers, who each regarded him with varying levels of hostility. Olaf stared, Marshall glared, and both Anna and Kristoff had their respective weapons drawn and trained on their unwelcome guest. The word felt ill in Kristoff's mind as he considered it alongside the man before him.

"Why are you here?" he snapped.

Hans regarded him curiously, head cocked to the side exaggeratedly. Smoke puffed out in a burst as he laughed again though it was more of a forceful exhalation than anything else. "I do believe that I've already told you the answer to that!" He spread his arms wide and twitched strangely as he attempted to revert to the smooth and sly demeanor he had demonstrated upon his arrival. "I have something that you want! Something that  _all_  of you want. Would you like to see it?" He smiled, beamed at them, grinning into the faces of death and hatred.

"What's in it for you?" Anna questioned, her voice cold and level with frozen rage.

He clapped his hands together and stared into the distance, "Wouldn't  _you_  like to know? Now then, will you be coming with me, or these armed fellows here?"

The group turned around and started. A full squadron of soldiers, dressed in black, synthetic, Old World armor were positioned around them, armed with assault rifles. The snow and other small, light objects around them were all tousled into a frenzy by a sudden gust, whipping everyone's hair and loose garments around fiercely. The blizzard was blasted away by the force, clearing the view above to reveal the descending vehicle, an armored and militarized twin-bladed air transport. Hans spat out his cigarette and gestured to the vehicle with an exaggerated flourish, unfazed even as his once perfectly combed hair was blown into disarray.

"After you."


	19. Katabasis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys. I was on a two-week road trip to California, which is the main reason why this update is late. I hadn't said anything about it in the author's note for the last update because I had somehow deluded myself into thinking that I would be able to finish it during the trip. Sorry about that. In other news, you may have noticed that I've tweaked the rating and the description for this story. The reasoning behind that decision should make a little more sense after you read this chapter.

The true extent of the devastated land and the depravity of the entire frozen world was finally fathomable from the aerial vista that the air transport provided. Kilometers upon kilometers of mountains, hills, snowed in valleys, and dying forests rushed on below, covering days of travel through the frigid apocalypse in mere seconds. Kristoff watched it pass from where he sat by the window, arms folded across his chest, muscles tensed as he tried to ignore the fact that the man he hated, and whom he was beginning to suspect was responsible for everything that had happened, was hardly two meters away and sitting in the seat opposite from him.

The dreaded man, in contrast, sat comfortably, his legs crossed with his arms resting behind his head. He was clean and clothed in white, his appearance completely in order except for his still windswept hair and perhaps his state of mind.

"So, how've you been?" Hans asked with uncharacteristic cheeriness, smiling so broadly that his lips were visibly twitching, straining. He was either completely oblivious to the roiling tension present in the airborne cabin or unable to bring himself to care about it.

No one responded to his question. Kristoff didn't even acknowledge that the words had been said and Olaf merely looked around quietly. Anna's murderous glare hadn't wavered or shifted from where it was focused on Hans, and if it weren't for Marshall's arm wrapped around her waist, she would have likely leapt upon the red-haired devil a long time ago. The four of them had all crammed themselves on one side of the opposing rows of seats, leaving Hans alone on the other.

The degenerate chuckled darkly and ran a white-gloved hand through his hair before splaying his arms, his mouth still stretched oddly. "Come on now! It's been  _five years_ , people!" His hands dropped onto his seat with a slap as he leaned forward. "I'm sure you all have at least  _something_  say to me!"

"Other than 'fuck you'? Not really," Kristoff muttered bitterly, still staring out the window.

Hans shrugged concessively as he leaned back, crossing his legs. "I suppose I can't blame you for your animosity; you were rather attached to the witch, weren't you?"

"Elsa is  _not_ a witch!" Anna yelled a bit too loudly; there wasn't much need for an inside voice when you were always out in the wilderness.

Hans laughed again, shaking his head exaggeratedly, "Now you're just being silly, love! Have you been outside? I mean-" He doubled over suddenly and coughed into a handkerchief that wasn't there a moment before, drawn from his pocket with frightening and familiar efficiency. He wiped his mouth and stashed it away quickly, but still failed to hide the splash of crimson from his captives. He wiped a spot of blood from his mouth with a hand and smiled at the others, revealing yellowed and red-rimmed teeth. "Oh don't worry, I'm not contagious." He jested before dissolving into a literal fit giggles at his own joke, twitching all the while.

Kristoff sighed and pulled his gaze away from the window to level a withering glare at the deranged man. "How much longer are we going to be stuck with you?" he asked irritably.

"Only for as long as I need you to be," Hans replied levelly with only a slight, relaxed smile. His sudden emotional recovery was just as unsettling as his exaggerated demeanor. The now calm magnate glanced toward his window and the wintry sight beyond it. The snowy valleys and towering peaks of the fjords had since given way to flat ground and modest hills, the monotony only broken by the occasional pile of rubble or spire of solid ice. The last remnants of the man's extrinsic joviality faded in an instant, brought down and sobered into marbled stone by the sight that lay before him and catalyzed by some unknown memory.

When Kristoff glanced outside again, the frozen spires were much taller as well as significantly wider and jagged in appearance. He watched as the plains of powdered snow transformed into fields of frozen daggers, which expanded and extended as they flew along towards wherever it was that the were going, and the transport lurched upward to maintain its altitude. Not moments later, the landscape again changed. They were passing over paved multi-laned roads and between gargantuan and vaguely familiar ruined skyscrapers which rose up on either side sans the few that had fallen and blocked the streets with snow-laden rubble.

The massive edifices were in turn dwarfed by another site that loomed in the distance, slowly coming out of the fog created by an ever-present storm of snow, and as they continued to near it, it stretched overhead, the top of it going out of sight of the view provided by the transport's windows. It was an imposing tower of metal and ice, an immense spire that stabbed through the heavens like a blade of legend. The land around it, an area covering at least a few square kilometers in the shape of a rough circle, was flattened and barren. The buildings and rubble had been cleared away from the area, even down to the foundations, and were packed together with clay and mortar to form a defensive barrier around what could only be described as a compound. Short, long, and hardy buildings had been erected in the clearing of the urban forest, some of which resembled barracks while others poured out smoke and exhaust as the byproducts of industry. The structures built near the center of the compound shared the composition of the perimeter walls while the farther out ones were made of manufactured materials, likely produced in that very space. Multiple layers of barbed wire fence ran around and past the wall, and Kristoff thought he could make out the distinctive shapes of a few corpses around the outside of the boundary, tangled up and strewn in a grisly fashion amongst the many defenses.

Anna's gaze flicked to Kristoff and took in his stunned expression, prompting her to look out her own window and subsequently gasp at the clearing. The sight before her led her to only one conclusion. "Callaghan's compound..."

Hans sighed with relief, and his returning smile was softer, peaceful, and proud. "Not quite, but I suppose that would be a good title for it. Personally, I still prefer to regard it with its Old World name."

A realization flushed its way through Kristoff, making the hairs on his skin stand on end as his synapses connected the final pieces of what he could already see was a dreaded puzzle. "No way..."

Hans's smile broadened at the mountain man's expense. "Welcome to Frost Industries."

— —

The transport touched down smoothly on the helipad, the gusts from the blades scattering the fallen snow to the four winds and beyond, revealing it to be the same helipad that Kristoff had stepped down onto every day for almost six months. The entire space had changed much during the past five years. Much of the actual surface had been augmented and reinforced with plated metal, and a full contingent of armed guards stood near the entry doors in a rigid, practiced formation with a stiffness and seriousness that Kristoff hadn't seen since his days in the army. The group of soldiers had strange rifles slung across their chests that resembled nothing he had ever seen before, silver in color and adorned with glowing blue lights. The side door of the transport facing the building opened, blasting the frigid air from outside into the cabin, causing everyone except Hans to cringe and shiver. Their captor stepped out first and inhaled deeply, arms spread out wide as if he were trying to absorb the storm into his very being.

"Ah! That is  _brisk!_ " He spun around on a heel, flashing an exhilarated smile at the others, who warily made their exit from the vehicle. From the large bay doors—which had also been reinforced—at the other end of the helipad, a large man, clothed in a matte black trench coat with a gun belt and a sleek, sealed, full-face reflective mask stepped out. His heavy boots carried him across the platform, punctuating every step with an ominous  _clump._ He brushed Hans aside dismissively with the back of his hand as he passed, hardly paying the auburn-haired man any mind, who in turn stepped away submissively and with fearful urgency.

The mysterious giant of a man stopped before the wilderness-hardened quartet and gazed at each of them in turn before chuckling darkly.

"How ironic. After four years spent scouring the entire frozen world for the three of you, I discover all of you squatting in the middle of my own backyard."

"What do you mean the  _three_  of us?" Olaf blurted, confused. "There's four of us-"

No one saw it coming, and everyone but the masked man jumped at the piercing sound of the gunshot. By the time anyone knew what had happened, the firearm was already holstered back in the stranger's thigh pocket, and Olaf lay on his back with a hole in his forehead, staring blindly up at the wintry sky with glassy, dead eyes. A pool of crimson spread slowly around him and was already congealing in the frosty air.

"You were never needed, civilian." the man replied coldly and simply.

Anna screamed and lunged for him, but was held back by Marshall's arms as the whole platoon of soldiers present on the helipad trained their rifles on her. "You bastard! What- why would you—Dammit Marshall! Let me go, you son of a bitch!"

The masked man chuckled, peering curiously at the snarling and furious redhead. "That's quite some fire you have there. It's a lot like your sister's though I must say, yours is much easier to ignite." He turned on a heel and headed back toward the doors. "Come along now, the lot of you. The more you cooperate, the easier this will be for all of us."

Hans beamed and whipped around, "Yes, indeed! Come along now children!" he exclaimed, waving excitedly with a gloved hand.

"Hans?" The giant asked, his tone cold and dangerous, causing the addressed man to flinch. He turned around meekly. "Y-yes, Professor?"

"Shut up."

"Yes, sir."

Several of the armed men came up behind the trio and began to corral them forward, and the responded without much resistance. Their eyes were still glued to the sight of their fallen friend and the two soldiers that collected him from the ground before sealing him into a body bag.

— —

_Hello, darkness..._

She smiled at her own greeting, or at least tried to. She thought she had managed it but wasn't certain. In her state, she had no way to tell. She didn't know if she even had the strength for it, or anything else. The monotony was comforting in the darkness, a peaceful release. She never moved, and was never disturbed. All she had was the darkness, and all the darkness had was her.

The lights turned on with a snap, bright, burning, and revealing. The darkness was gone. She was blind. She was lost. She was alone—alone and vulnerable to the demons that lurked around her.

"No!" She croaked in a harsh and parched whisper, a desiccated whimper. She tried to shield her eyes, but the blaring luminescence that shone through them refused to abate.

"Secure the subject."

"Yes, sir."

The demons were there, and she began to thrash in protest. "Don't! Don't do anything! Please! I...I..."

There was a prick, followed by an uncomfortable and surreal feeling of pressure. The world was now fading, softening and blurring her understanding of everything around her. Only the simplicities were fathomable, and just barely so. She was moving. She couldn't tell where. They were taking her again. The demons were taking her again. As her mind let go and began to sink into the deep recesses of her unconscious, a lone tear and a lasting thought each emerged from her. She braced herself, and prepared to steel the last fledgling of her sanity that remained against the onslaught that was to come.

_Conceal. Don't feel._

_Don't let it show_

_._

— —

The interior of the building was already minimalist in style. It was how Elsa had preferred it; the lack of ornamentation allowed people to focus on what mattered, but it wasn't so barren as to attract notice either. Now though, even the small aesthetic pieces that were once there had been torn down, leaving only drilled holes behind and making everything cold, gray, drab, and utilitarian. The sterilized interior was a stark contrast from the frozen hell the three survivors had been subjected to for the past half of a decade. It only served to unnerve them further as the were marched down the hallway toward the elevator, forced onward by the rifles of the black armored entourage and the authority of the masked giant, a man who was apparently only known as "The Professor". One of the soldiers rushed forward ahead of him to call the elevator before returning to his post, and once the group caught up, they waited.

Anna leaned towards Kristoff and hissed into his ear. "This is  _insane!_ They just killed him! Like it was nothing!"

"As if you're not used to killing," Kristoff muttered flatly, his gaze far away and his eyes deadened.

Anna sighed, "That's different—out in the wilderness, it's either you or them; you only kill because you  _have_  to, not because you don't have any use for someone-" She was jerked forward as the butt of a rifle impacted the back of her head. "Ow! What the fuck-"

"No talking." The guard behind her stated, staring back at her blankly from behind his visor, hiding his eyes and any lasting traces of humanity left within him, assuming there still were any.

The Professor sighed. "I do believe that I  _explicitly_  instructed all of you not to harm our guests."

Everyone was silent, crushed underneath a foreboding weight. The offender flinched. "I'm sorry sir, I-"

"Insubordination is not tolerated."

The man inhaled sharply, and let out a strangled gurgle as he started to choke on the fresh blood pooling in his throat, courtesy of the knife his previous comrade, the man standing next to him, had lodged in his neck. He collapsed to the floor, and none of the other soldiers so much as glanced at him.

"I run things a little differently here." The Professor stated as he gazed at everyone. "I don't tolerate dissent. Such behavior is a disease—a cancer—and must be cut away before it spreads."

The elevator doors opened, and the Professor marched inside, unfazed, followed by Hans, the trio, and their immediate handlers. Anna looked around at the elevator, not sure whether she had never been in it before or if she just didn't remember. Considering what she knew of her relationship with Elsa, the former was rather likely. She looked over at Hans, who stood up straight with his lips pursed together tightly. His gaze frequently flicked toward the imposing form of the Professor before returning to the wall. The once arrogant and confident man had be reduced to a demure shrew, and the last thing Anna wanted was to learn how.

"How much do you remember about The Crash?" The Professor asked Kristoff, out of the blue.

"I don't feel very inclined to inform you of anything, and I don't think I ever will."

The masked man nodded, "That's fine, you're not here for questioning. Your purpose here is much more...central."

The floor display above the doors passed from G to B1 without any sign of stopping or even slowing down. Frost HQ didn't have a basement in the past.

 _To what end do these changes extend?_  Kristoff wondered. He looked to Marshall, who was stone-faced and vacant. He hadn't said a single word since they had first entered the transport, and his white-knuckled hand was gripped tightly in Anna's. She too stared ahead, but her eyes burned with aquatic fire.

The doors opened on floor B10, filling the small chamber with a cloud of cold and opaque mist. The Professor marched through it without hesitation, and the others followed in his wake. Through the fog, they could see a long and narrow metal hallway with several sets of doors positioned along the sides, and as they reached the end of it, a substantially solid bulkhead door became visible, opening automatically upon the Professor's approach.

Inside was a room resembling the mission control of a space program. There were several rows of terminals and command stations, all manned by labcoat adorned staff members that monitored streams of unseen data. An aisle cut the room and the rows of consoles in half, and at its end, the implicit front of the room, was a raised dais followed by a railing. Beyond that was a set of large windows looking out upon something in the darkness.

The remaining soldiers positioned themselves by the door, and as Kristoff examined his surroundings, he noted that they had all come in through the only exit in the room.

The Professor continued on toward the dais and stopped at the railing before turning around back towards the room, his hands clasped behind his back. "Come forward, Bjorgman."

Kristoff hesitated but approached, exchanging a quick and worried glance with his companions as he went. Anna met his eyes with the same sentiment, but Marshall was still elsewhere.

The Professor watched Kristoff as he neared, and once the man was on the dais, the giant returned his gaze to the windows before them. "It is time that you learn why I've brought you here, Sergeant."

Kristoff was taken aback, "Sergeant?"

"That was your rank, was it not?"

Kristoff nodded absently, "Yes. No one's called me that in years."

The lights beyond the windows turned on with a snap and a hum, revealing a large, white room. Advanced devices and tools were positioned about the space, and it was nearly impossible to discern whether it more closely resembled a workshop or an operation room. It was the sight that lay in the room's center, however, that was the most astounding.

Elsa lay upon a large gurney, dressed in a thin, synthetic shift. Her hair was down and a tangled, knotted mess, and was pulled back out of her face to allow for the placement of several electrodes and tubes. Kristoff's eyes didn't stray from her until he could confirm that she was breathing.

Kristoff's jaw was rigid. "What do you want me to do?"

Anna was dismayed and cried out in protest as she lunged. "Kristoff!" With no one in a position to immediately stop her, she rushed forward, knocking aside anyone who attempted to block her passage. "We can't trust these people! They killed Olaf! How can you just-" She skidded to a stop at the edge of the dais and was silent, completely overwhelmed by the sight before her as the room behind the glass came into view. "Oh my god..."

The Professor chuckled. "I take this to mean that you no longer have any complaints?"

Anna didn't respond and only approached the glass, climbing over the railing to press her hands against the transparent surface as her mind struggled to come to terms with what she was seeing.

Taking her silence as confirmation, the giant nodded. "Good."

On an unseen signal, the members of the trio were each grabbed from behind by their militarized escorts. All of the captives complied except for Anna, who fought savagely, kicking, flailing, and screaming helplessly until her elbow connected with one guard's face and sent him flipping backwards into one of the consoles and its operator. Th other two soldiers were startled by her sudden display of strength, and were dispatched by her just as quickly. The first was dropped with a loaded left hook, and the other received a brutal kick to the solar plexus that lifted him off his feet and propelled him at speed into the thick safety glass of the main window, creating a spider web of cracks that exploded violent across the transparent surface. Anna was stunned, snapped out of her frenzy by the sound of the cracking glass. She was utterly speechless; she knew she had a good arm, but there was a mile of a difference between delivering a knockout punch and kicking a man hard enough to crack bulletproof glass.

A needle found its way into her neck and she gasped as the effects began almost immediately, starting from the injection site. Her muscles relaxed against her will and she fell limply into the large arms that secured her before losing consciousness. The Professor placed the syringe on the console next to him before handing the tranquilized young woman off to a guard—the one she had elbowed into a backflip—and watched with folded arms as the captives were all escorted from the room.

He locked eyes with Kristoff. "You will be briefed when you are needed. For now, stay in your quarters and do what you're told. Cooperate, and everyone's lives will be easier."

Kristoff's gaze darkened as he looked back over his shoulder, not at The Professor, but at what lay behind him.

"Yes, Sir."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, poll time. Would you prefer shorter and more frequent updates or longer chapters that are released less frequently? Specifically, I'm referring to either keeping the current schedule with chapters reduced to about 3,000 to 4,000 words or moving to a three-week one with chapters of around 4,000-8,000 words. For reference, this chapter had a word count of approximately 3,500. Things are getting busier and I don't have as much time to dedicate to this project as I used to, hence the changes. I await your feedback and will see you all in two weeks! (Or three)


	20. Hidden Truths

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Literally no one responded to the question I had left in the last author's note, so I don't think I'm going to work with a schedule at all. It'll be out when it's out.

We burst from the elevator into the below-ground parking garage of the hotel, two pairs of winter boots clumping out of sync across smoothed gray concrete, the sounds echoing throughout the man-made cavern.

"Do you have the keys to the van?" Elsa asked, her voice as clipped as her gait. Her bangs bobbed and swung with her gait, followed by the rest of her unbound locks of platinum blonde hair as they bounced on her shoulders. Her crystalline blue irises darted around as she searched for their vehicle.

"No. We're not taking it," I replied just as shortly. "They've likely already bugged it, not to mention that a van doesn't exactly make for an effective getaway car."

Elsa stopped and turned toward me with her arms folded over her chest. She was dressed in a pastel-blue turtleneck along with navy blue denim jeans. She also wore her dark, laced boots, which was quickly becoming her usual choice of footwear, as well as a short black coat that for some reason had both buttons and a zipper, and a pair of dark brown synthetic leather gloves. A duffel bag hung from her shoulder, forced behind her by her crossed arms, and her purse was slung diagonally across her chest, resting at her side. Her expression was irritable, likely in response to my answer. "Then what exactly are we doing down here?"

"We're looking for a car," I reiterated, now regarding her with pursed lips and a passive gaze.

Her brows furrowed in confusion and then deepened even further in indignance as understanding enveloped her. Her mouth popped open as her jaw fell. "We are  _not_  stealing one, Kris!"

I let out a suppressed sigh, still rather exasperated even though I knew that this was coming. "Look, I'm not sure if you've realized this, but the cops are probably the least of our concerns right now. Besides, we don't exactly have time to buy another car."

Elsa huffed irritably and her gaze suddenly shifted as it began to follow something behind me. "Oh yes we do. Excuse me!" She exclaimed, jogging past me toward the thing unseen, and when I turned my head to follow, I saw her actively flagging down a car that had just entered the subterranean lot. It was a sleek and swanky convertible sports car...and about as obscenely and obnoxiously red as a blood-splattered firetruck that was covered in enough scarlet neon lights to rival the ridiculous brightness of the Las Vegas Strip.

The driver, a dark-haired man with olive skin and an almost princely air about him, regarded her attentively, enough so to stir within me a bitter green goblin of jealousy that I didn't even know I had. Elsa dug out a massive wad of rubber-banded bills from her purse and urgently waved it in the driver's face, startling him. "I need your car. Now."

"Seriously?" His accent was that of a Spaniard's, and he regarded Elsa with more surprise than displeasure, which was in itself surprising.

"Yes," Elsa affirmed shortly, her tone authoritative and familiarly icy.

The driver thought about it for a moment, and then shrugged and got out, accepting the wad of cash Elsa placed into his hand before proceeding to count it. Elsa turned and gestured for me to come forward, visibly relieved.

I entered the driver's seat as the man began walking away, whistling with his hands buried in his now bulging pockets. Elsa turned away from him, looked down at where I was sitting in the car, and then back up at my face to frown at me. "What are you doing?"

"Um...driving? Basic procedure?"

She huffed and opened my door before pushing me over the center console and climbing into the driver's seat herself. "You don't know where we're going."

I buckled myself in and watched with curious and rather bewildered eyes as my charge shifted gears and proceeded to maneuver the sports car out of the garage. Elsa never drove, especially not stick, or so I had thought. What else did she know how to do?

"Seatbelt, Elsa," I said automatically before even realizing it.

There was a retort on her lips, but she thought better of it and simply buckled up, her face scorched red with blush and indignance.

"So where  _are_ we going, exactly?" I asked warily.

"Someplace you've never been. Someplace safe."

"How do you know it's safe?"

"Because no one knows it exists."

Her cryptic words gave me pause as we entered the open air outside of the parking structure. It was freezing and windy as hell. Perhaps a convertible wasn't such a good idea, not to mention one that could be spotted from a mile away by the naked eye in virtually any setting.

"This car's a little conspicuous, though, don't you think?" I commented critically.

Elsa blushed under my scrutiny and raised her chin stubbornly as she manipulated the rearview mirror display hologram to a more suitable position on the windshield. "We're in a hurry, aren't we? And I didn't exactly have a gallery to pick through."

I thought back to all the cars that were parked in the underground lot. "Well technically..."

"Stealing doesn't count," Elsa snapped, her tempered mask emerging defensively.

I chuckled and brushed a gentle hand over her thigh in a comforting gesture, attempting to soften and thaw the stone-hard icy barrier she had erected within her mind. She relaxed gradually with a long exhale and placed her own hand over mine, our fingers intertwining together, fitting like puzzle pieces. Her hand was warming up—which was a good sign. It felt comparatively even more so as she turned right and allowed the full force of the frigid wind to blast into the side of my head, which was no longer protected by the front windshield. Goosebumps raised across my chilled skin in waves like ICBMs firing in sequence.

"Can we put the top up?" I asked, my voice strained against the harsh and freezing weather.

Her warmth lessened. "Sorry," she lamented, though she still didn't move.

"Sorry as in you can't put it up or sorry about forgetting?"

"Both. Maybe we can fix it at the next traffic light."

With a groan, I slunk down further into my seat, futilely attempting to hide from the elements, an act which apparently amused my partner based on the peals of laughter coming from her. I grumbled as the winter's wrath pricked at my flesh. "I hate convertibles..."

— —

The drive to wherever the hell we were going—a location that Elsa still had yet to disclose—dragged on for hours. As a result, we had plenty of time to talk, think, and reflect on what had happened to us thus far. Our seemingly mundane and monotonous lives had shifted unwelcomely into harried and unpredictable affairs in only a matter of days. During that time, though, we had together crossed the perilous bridge from the familiar bank of friends and confidants to the far-off opposite shore of something...more. We were not quite lovers but were unquestionably in love, platonically intimate but physically rather chaste—relatively, at least. In addition to all of that, we were now on the run together. We had both lost friends to either death or betrayal during our tumultuous transition, and had abandoned even others still. We claimed to have saved them from the fate of suffering under our burden by inflicting upon them the pain of separation, but that was just the justification for it. It was a rationalization that was unfortunately much easier to suggest and make than it was to carry out or follow through with.

Some time around the fourth hour of the drive, I took the liberty of writing the previous entry in my journal. Free time was generally a rare occurrence, and I didn't want to pass it up. The car's stereo was on with the volume turned low, tuned to the radio and playing—for probably the fiftieth time—some pop song that I had never heard of but now had stuck in my head.

Elsa glanced over at me curiously as I wrote. "What's that?"

"My journal."

"I didn't know you kept a diary," she teased, smiling playfully.

"It's not a diary," I mumbled petulantly, struggling to avoid her gaze. My face was growing warm from being on the spot, and a full-on flush wasn't far off.

Elsa shrugged and looked back to the road, at boring, countless miles of flat, paved asphalt. "They're sort of the same thing really. Why is it on paper though? Hardly anyone handwrites anything anymore."

"I've always done it on paper, and I like to be consistent, I guess. Plus, it wasn't that weird of a thing to do back when I started it."

"And when was that?"

"About fifteen years ago, I think."

She scoffed and looked away from the road for a moment to appraised me. "Just how old are you exactly?"

I regarded her with a raised eyebrow, suspicious but with a lighter tone. "I thought you already had access to that kind of information?"

She shrugged again as she reset her gaze forward. "I must have skipped that part of your file. So, what do you write in your journal?"

"Everything, kind of. I usually don't bother with the more mundane and repetitive things for obvious reasons, unless they happen to be particularly relevant or memorable instances." I was reminded then of a particularly amusing—in retrospect— breakfast we had shared involving incorrectly worn sunglasses. I smiled fondly at the shared memory, and from her shy, blushing smile, I was willing to bet that she was thinking about the same thing. That day felt like a lifetime ago. "As far as most other relevant events or developments go, though, everything else that's happened is in here."

"You know, that's probably a violation of your NDA," Elsa pointed out jokingly...or so I hoped. Her tone was flat, making it impossible to be sure.

"Even though you technically fired me?" I countered weakly.

She cocked her head slightly and began to explain with an accompaniment of expressive hand gestures, swaying, and nods, "That NDA is binding, and your continued employment was not one of the conditions of it, which is sort of counterintuitive since it was sort of one of the conditions of your initial employment along with the random drug testing, the liability waivers, etcetera, etcetera." She waved the rest of the list off with a hand before pointing at me, "And you weren't fired, you were  _dismissed_. It's different. A good different...I think."

I frowned, eyes narrowed skeptically. "It's...not. It's the same thing. Where did you even hear that?"

Elsa rolled her eyes. "Doesn't matter. You can consider yourself officially reinstated."

I shook my head, my mind worried by a different matter entirely. "That's great and all, but what about the NDA thing? That sounds kind of serious." I regarded her warily and saw a mischievous grin spread across her face.

She shrugged loftily, with her head held up high, "That journal is a liability regarding the agreement, so...you're going to have to have to let me read it. For evaluation purposes."

I squinted suspiciously. "I don't think..." I crossed my arms and frowned, identifying the deception. "That's not how that works! You just wanted an excuse to read it, didn't you?"

"I won't tell if you don't," Elsa offered with a conspiratorial wink.

I rolled my eyes.

She shrugged, grinning involuntarily and facetiously. "We can just cover up the violation with another NDA!" Still smiling broadly, she looked over at me finally and laughed at my scrupulous expression. "I'm kidding, Kris! You're fine!"

"So you're not reading it?"

Her brows twitched down, and she appeared rather hurt by my words. "Well, I mean, if you don't want me to, I guess I..." She sank further into her seat with the growth of a depressing weight. "That's not really what I was...I'm sorry," she apologized, her retreat as awkward as her speech.

I ran a hand through my hair, which was becoming rather long; I had been due for a haircut the day after the expected business of the ball. Needless to say, the disaster that instead followed changed everything drastically. I sighed. "It's not that I really have anything to hide exactly, I just... I don't like hearing people read my words."

Elsa's head cocked to the side. "But I've read a lot of your reports back to you sometimes," she pointed out. "You never said anything then."

"I didn't think I was in a position to really say anything about it."

Elsa massaged her forehead with a hand and let out a sigh of her own. Her breath, no doubt cool and wintry, teasingly parted a pair of delicately thin rose pink lips. She wasn't even trying and she was still incredibly alluring. She then slicked her bangs back out of her face, an unprecedented gesture. Her thick hair didn't even resist the departure from its prior shape. The new style made a rather surprising difference in her overall appearance, and to be honest, I rather liked the change. It had a pleasingly deviant look to it but was no less glamorous—and dare I say it—perhaps even more so.

"Sorry," she mumbled in response to my previous words, which were neatly forgotten through my fixation on her platinum locks. She was oblivious to my admiring gaze.

"Don't worry about it," I replied placidly, preoccupied still, taking in the novel sight again. Even harried and on the run, she was still gorgeous. I used to try to avoid thinking about her in that way, as I had seen no reason to pine after someone that I had believed I could never be with. Now I know I must have been blind to have not noticed her as a woman even then. Perhaps now I'm merely just experiencing some sort of built-up backlog of admiration and infatuation, or maybe she was really just that attractive. I'm personally leaning towards the latter.

"For the record, I'm twenty-nine," I mentioned conversationally, jumping back to an older topic.

"Oh..." She seemed both surprised and subdued by my answer and frowned as if it were a puzzle. "I thought you were older."

I wasn't really surprised; people always made that mistake about my age. I then smirked as a flare of wit was sparked to life in my mind. "Does this mean you have a thing for older men?"

If I had dyed Elsa's hair green right then, her head could've passed for a large beet. The car lurched as her focus wavered. "I-I didn't think you were  _that_  much older! I mean you-It's...it's not like looks matter that much anyways s-so..."

"They're definitely a lovely bonus, though," I remarked, regarding her again. When she noticed my gaze, she turtled down into her coat shyly and squared her shoulders, trying to hide her cute reddening face from view. It was absolutely adorable, so much so that I found myself leaning over to kiss her forehead. She ducked further but giggled.

"Thanks."

"You are most definitely welcome."

"I wonder why that is, though—your whole age thing, I mean. It's like you've gone through an entire extra decade of stress or something."

I raised an eyebrow, "so much for not looking 'that much older'."

She shoved my arm with a hand, still smiling while my own faded in the wake of a dark and brooding memory. I sighed. "In a way, I guess that's kind of what happened. War tends to do that to you..."

She was silent for quite a while after that, subdued and still embarrassed. The only sounds in the car were the roar of the highway and the incessant buzz of the near-mute radio.

"Do...do you want to talk about it?"

"No. It's something I'd rather not relive."

She nodded, stiffly and a little exaggeratedly. I had the feeling there was something she was holding back. The anxiety evident in her white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel and the rigidity of her jaw confirmed it. The temperature in the room was also cooling a little, but it was nothing the heater couldn't fix. There wasn't any ice, though, and at the realization, my heart swelled with pride. Elsa was gaining control.

She noticed my change of expression. "What're you smiling for?"

I didn't realize that I was. I frowned quizzically. "Am I not supposed to be?"

"That's not what I meant," she turned to me for a moment, flashing a cluelessly charming smile, "I just wanted to get in on it too."

I chuckled, "Fair enough. You were upset but managed to reign in your ice. I'm proud of you."

Her smile brightened for a moment but quickly faltered into deep thought.

I picked up on it immediately. "Is something wrong?"

"I don't know. I didn't try anything different just now...in fact, I don't think I did anything at all."

"That's probably a good sign, you know; that restraint is becoming reflex." She shrugged, seemingly unconvinced, and stared out ahead. Something else was wrong and left her still clearly troubled and silent. I massaged her shoulder, trying not to mind how cold it was or even think about the stupid pun that hovered over it.

More time passed, and I was feeling particularly pent up and bored, so I opened up the glove compartment. To my surprise, it was completely empty except for a few papers, which I picked through and examined. I scoffed at one of them and laughed a little. "No wonder that guy handed this car over so readily," I remarked, and turned to an expectant Elsa, slightly bewildered. "He stole it."

She groaned and her lips pursed as she exhaled sharply; having to drive prevented her from reacting as strongly as she meant to. "Seriously?"

"Yeah, the original owner was someone named Ariel Atlantica apparently. That guy was probably planning to pawn this thing when we found him. So much for not stealing a car," I chuckled.

She shoved me with a hand and returned her eyes to the road. "There's no need to rub it in, you know."

— —

We stopped before an immense gate, part of a towering, metal, barbed wire fence of linked chain that stretched to either side as far the eye could see. They no doubt circled the compound that lay before us. It was a grand complex of gargantuan warehouses, all of which were at least four or five stories in height with walls built, cast, and forged of concrete, steel, and corrugated tin. With everything being composed of shades of either brown, grey, or white, it was no wonder that my eyes were drawn immediately to the large blue company logo, which was printed large on thin sheet metal and bolted to the gate.

"Why are we at the corporate warehouses?" I asked, following Elsa with my eyes as we got out of the car and kept pace alongside her. "This hardly sounds like the place you cryptically described. You'd think a company would be aware of its assets, wouldn't you?"

"It's under the company name, yes, but it isn't connected to the records. As far as the bureaucrats and record keepers back at headquarters are concerned, this place doesn't even exist. It's not the most accommodating shelter, though, I'm afraid."

I shrugged, "I've had worse."

Elsa regarded me dubiously. "You've had worse than a night in a warehouse without air conditioning? I'm sure there's a hell of a story behind that."

"I suppose you could say that," I muttered, my tone as dark as the memories that story had stirred, of weeks in the wilderness with only my wits and crude handcrafted tools at my disposal, my body starving and near feral in the middle of frozen nowhere. Military survival training made getting stranded feel like a cakewalk. I exhaled deeply, dissipating the past along with my breath, and raised my gaze from the mire to examine the walls of the warehouses ahead of us. They were solid, industrial. "At least it's indoors," I pointed out optimistically.

We stood before the gate, which was heavily chained and padlocked, the old kind that required actual keys and had to be manually unlocked. I clicked my tongue incredulously "No electronic locks? No keycards? Just how old  _is_  this place?" My unease led me to reexamine everything about the place. I noticed faint spots of rust on the metal sections of the warehouses along with a variety of nicks, dents, scratches. There were even signs marking the past presence of graffiti, sections of off-colored gray paint used to cover it uo—an antivandalism technique that wasn't even used anymore now that we could color copying paint—as well as several other signs of weathering and age.

"I can't say exactly, but it was at least before the turn of the century," Elsa replied as she strode toward the mess of steel with stern determination, her hands flexing, unfurling, and clenching again with visible agitation.

I looked on, taking note of that fact but saying nothing about it. "I don't suppose you have the key, do you?"

Elsa reached out with her hands and the padlock and chains became engulfed by a swirling blizzard. They emerged as pure ice, including part of the gate itself, alchemically altered from solid steel to solid water, all the way down to the base elements. She then kicked out with a booted foot...and the gate merely wobbled anticlimactically.

"Allow me," I said, stepping forward as an embarrassed Elsa scooted out of my way, and with a swift front kick, I shattered the ice that bound the gate. The twin doors swung open freely, whipping around fully on their hinges before rebounding off of their respective walls with a clanging of chain-linked metal. I gave an exaggerated bow toward Elsa and gestured inside like a royal servant, causing Elsa to giggle as she walked on ahead of me.

Several minutes, a few hundred meters, and about four turns later, we arrived at the front of warehouse 7101. I wasn't entirely sure how the complex's number system worked, as the order seemed completely random; the warehouse next door was number 2501. Go figure.

Elsa stood up ahead, staring at the access door that was next to the pair of closed hangar doors. She almost looked as if she were afraid to enter.

"Is this it?" I asked, gazing up at the building.

She exhaled deeply, squaring her shoulders. "Yes."

It didn't really look any different than the others. "Any particular reason why you chose this one?"

"Yes," she repeated. Her voice was shaky, strained, and just barely holding back a torrent of intense melancholy.

I approached her and soothingly rubbed her shoulder with a hand, attempting to comfort her with my presence. "What's in there that's got you so scared, Elsa?"

She sighed. "It's not...it's not what's in there that scares me. It's what you'll think of it—what you'll think of  _me_  after you see this."

"Well, unless it's where you stash all your murder victims, I don't think you have anything to worry about," I joked.

She flinched.

I frowned. "Elsa?"

She shook her head. "It needs to be done," she muttered to herself, the words barely audible. Her back straightened, her head tilted up at an entitled angle, and she strode forward with all the world's confidence and a regent's righteous arrogance. The mask was in place. A small, deft hand quickly entered a several character combination on the alphanumeric keypad securing the door, which unlocked with a short solid tone and a click. She grasped the handle and exhaled. Her apprehension led her facade to deflate for a moment before she reigned it all in again with tempered resolve. She turned her gaze to me, revealing that only a grim stranger stared back. Her mien was composed entirely of hyperborean essence, devoid of emotion and humanity. "Are you ready for this?" She asked, her voice flat.

I shrugged slightly, "Standing around isn't going to make me any readier, so yeah."

She turned away and proceeded into the dark and ominous abyss of unknown horrors, and I followed without hesitation.

Our boots were loud on the smooth concrete floor, and as we walked, the sound became magnified further by the onset of reverb. We were now in the main hangar though it seemed more akin to a meat locker.

A loud, scraping scuffling of something on the floor was followed by the ethereal and distant whispers of a voice unseen, carrying with ease through the immense space.

"I'm sorry."

The lights were on in a flash, revealing overhead fluorescents, support beams, and massive heavy-duty racks and scaffolds adorned with a variety of objects, most of which were rather large. A second glance yielded some surreal things, however. A mailbox, a table, a stack of golf clubs, several computers, and countless assorted objects, all of which had one single thing in common.

"This is where your ice goes..." I said aloud, my voice practically a whisper. Elsa stood in the middle of it all, holding the robust industrial switch that had activated the lights. Her head was down, and tears were streaming down her face. I smiled sympathetically and approached her. "Elsa, this isn't anything to be ashamed-"

"This isn't all of it." The quiet yet clear quality of her voice persisted.

"Well I know that, but-" It was the look in her eyes that stopped me. The severity of her gaze, the malaise that was the culmination of her pain, suffering, and an inner grudge of guilt and psychological torment. It was piercing, heart-stopping, a meter thick wall of chilled titanium against a loaded freight train.

With steps of lead, I trudged forward, and she continued on at the sight of my pace, deeper into the depths of what must have been the extent of her hidden depravity. We at last stopped in the darkest corner of the warehouse, where she stored the grimmest of her works. How fitting. Once I realized what exactly they were, however, I recognized them immediately.

I never knew his name, but I knew his face, and that he had disappeared a few months before, conveniently after one of Elsa's "incidents". They had blamed the air conditioning. There was also a maid, with a disappearance surrounded by similar conditions, and several others, all frozen in space and time in varying stages of terror and confusion. A couple of them were missing parts, limbs, and various other pieces. The ones they had managed to retrieve rested at their feet, the stumps all colored a dark and eerie crimson.

Elsa had eyes only for one of them, or rather two. The mass as a whole was huge and was composed of residual ice, a pair of odd-looking seats, and the couple that sat in them. They were holding hands and drenched in frozen blood, their faces captured in the moment before death like a macabre photograph. I approached cautiously, and the only thoughts that came to my mind were memories of a nightmare, though it was not my own. I stood beside Elsa, and we beheld the grotesque statue.

"Those are airplane seats..." I remarked after some time.

Elsa bit her lip.

The hues of the victims were distorted through the icy encasement, but the man clearly sported a head of auburn, and the woman at his side had a vague familiarly about her. I turned to Elsa, and it at last sunk in.

"Oh God..."

She broke down, free-falling to her knees, the weight and strain of holding the pain in for so long wrenching everything out of her with renewed violence.

I was still transfixed by the sight before me. "You...said that they died in a plane crash..."

"They did," she whimpered from the floor. "But it was not by the will of God."

I found myself sitting. "Shit..."

"I was twelve," she began suddenly, the truth rushing out unbidden with a chance of escape it wasn't risking to pass up on. "On a flight with my parents to Corona. There was a storm and I got scared. As far as what came next, well...you can't build a plane out of ice."

I embraced her, and she at first resisted, trying to isolate herself, pushing me away like everyone else, pushing before she caused even more pain, but I held on, and soon the scared young woman within climbed its way to the surface and buried herself into my chest, buried her grief and her sobs and her guilt. I said nothing as she fell apart.

There was nothing to say.

Nothing at all.

— —

They called them quarters, but in truth they were just cells. They were admittedly rather large, considering, but Kristoff was pretty sure that they were just old offices, secured with bars and locks so that they would be suitable for captivity. Anna's cell was next door to his, as he had found out. Upon waking from her drugged state, she wasn't the least bit pleased with her new surroundings, and wasn't afraid to make it known. Her screams and the sounds of objects breaking had only ended a few minutes ago after a fit of sobs.

 _She's probably asleep again,_ Kristoff mused, hoping that her hysterics wouldn't become an everyday thing; he had to get some sleep at some point. His "quarters" were sparse, like much of the building, actually, and only some the basic expected amenities were available. There wasn't even a window, as all of the glass was either blocked or replace with metal plating. The room was instead lit with an overhead fluorescent light, casting stark and dark shadows wherever it couldn't reach. Its wires and assorted cables traced about the ceiling and were spray painted to match the pale and drab aesthetic of the interior. It was almost as if the monotony was intentional.

When Kristoff wasn't reading from the journal that he had stashed on himself, he passed most of the time by sleeping, or at least trying to. He had come to the conclusion that his only chance for getting any shut-eye would be to fall in sync with Anna. With that goal in mind, he lay down on the thin cot provided and settled in for a long and much needed nap.

The door to his cell unlocked noisily with a loud clang and slid open on a track, squealing and moaning in protest. Kristoff groaned and sat up, groggy and irritated, before staring balefully at the guard standing in the doorway, whom he noticed looked rather odd.

Unlike the others, he wore goggles and a gas mask of sorts—the old fashioned kind—which covered his mouth and nose. His respirations were quite audible as they filtered through it, magnifying them like a megaphone. He stood several meters away and yet it sounded like he was breathing directly into Kristoff's ear. Needless to say, he found it both disconcerting and annoying, to the point of madness.

"Did you want something?" Kristoff grumbled acidly.

"The Professor has requested your presence," Maskface stated stiffly, his voice muffled and distorted through his peculiar facepiece. Kristoff rose and followed without a word, replaying the Professor's words through his head.

_Cooperate, and everyone's lives will be easier._

It made sense, so it mattered not whether he trusted the speaker, his enigmatic captor. Kristoff was determined to get through this, and as much as it hurt his pride, he would comply with their demands. The sight of Elsa had strengthened that resolve even more. He was playing straight into their hands—he knew that, but they had made it quite clear what happened to those who strayed from the rules of their little game. His only chance at liberty was to be a good prisoner and wait for an opportunity to escape, and his only hope was that there would actually be one to exploit.

Maskface escorted Kristoff to the elevator before shoving him inside and following him in. Kristoff glanced up to find the strange man staring at him, breathing heavily.

"Are we actually going anywhere or are you just going to stare at me?"

"No talking," Maskface snapped, before mashing the button for B10 with the side of his fist. He continued to stare at Kristoff for the entire ride down, who tried in vain to ignore him. As the doors finally opened, the familiar cloudy mist from the day before poured inside, and the Professor emerged from the fog with imposing and dramatic flair.

"Ah, Sergeant, there you are."

The elevator closed with Maskface still inside, leaving the other two men alone and waist deep in fog. Kristoff had to suppress a shiver. "What do you want?" he asked, looking up into the false eyes of the intimidating mask before him.

"Your cooperation, above all else."

The Professor set off then, and Kristoff ground his teeth in frustration at the dodged question as he followed, down the hall, through a door on the left, past a staircase, and into a hall of blinding light.

As his eyes adjusted, it became clear that it was a lab, painted white on every visible surface. The air was even colder than in the hall, and far drier. Combined with the excessive luminance of all the overhead fluorescents, looking about the room was like trying to stare at a snow field at high noon. Scientific equipment and apparatuses, both those familiar and others unrecognizable, were arranged within the space along with the technicians who worked them. The far wall of the long lab was an equally long window, looking out on-level at the same chamber Kristoff had seen from the operations room the day before. He could also see its windows, which appeared to be made of one-way glass. In fact, he couldn't really have missed them; the cracks in the window which Anna had thrown a certain unfortunate guard into still hadn't been repaired yet.

The Professor led Kristoff past the lab as well as several similar rooms and offices until they came upon a white vault door that was built into the wall. Patches of ice covered most of the metal where the water vapor in the air had gotten too close and froze. It at least explained why the air was so dry.

The Professor began inputting a long and complex alphanumeric password onto the keypad beside the immense metal door. "We keep Elsa in here when we aren't running tests," he explained. Upon noticing the obvious spark of hope lighting Kristoff's eyes, he then quickly added, "She is not herself. Most of the trauma we've had to induce has led her to suppress her personality and her powers to a subconscious level." He finished the password and watched the ice crumble against the shifting mechanisms that drove the door. "She is now a mere shadow of her former self, devoid of most of her memories along with the other components that had made her who she once was. We call this one Dark Elsa."

"Why's that?" Kristoff asked. The door had opened fully by this time, revealing an antechamber that was rough with frost but slick with ice. There were no lights inside as far as Kristoff could tell, and the room would have been pitch black if the vault door wasn't open.

The Professor looked on at the black rectangle that made up most of the far wall, which Kristoff eventually recognized as another window. "Because she loves the dark. It's the only way to get her to stop screaming hysterically for some reason. We're not yet sure why."

Kristoff made his way to the window and looked through it. Oddly, there was no sign that any of the light was entering the darker chamber. "Can she see me?"

"No, but she knows you're there." The Professor stepped out, and after pressing an unseen button, the vault door began to close. "I'll leave you two alone now."

"Wait!" Kristoff rushed the door, but it had closed the moment he reached it. His head slammed painfully into it as he collided blindly with it in total darkness. "Shit!" He cursed, fumbling across the door in a hopeless search for a way out. "What the hell is he playing at?"

"Hello?" A voice called out from the darkness, quiet, subdued, but curious, familiar.

Kristoff rushed towards it, fumbling through the darkness until he roughly collided with the window, breathing heavily with exertion and the rising swell of overly-optimistic hope within him. Thankfully, his hands took the brunt of the impact, allowing him to save face, or rather,  _his_  face. "Elsa?" He ventured, trying unsuccessfully to remain entirely calm.

"What?"

"Are you Elsa?" Kristoff repeated, his tone more level than before; the conversation was helping him focus.

"I don't know. Is that what you would call something like me?"

 _Some_ thing _?_ Kristoff exclaimed internally, dismayed by how far she had been reduced.  _How could they have done this to her?_

"Are you still there-"

"What have they done to you?"

She was silent. In the darkness, it was almost as if she wasn't even there. "You mean the demons…don't you?" she asked finally. Her voice seemed so fragile.

"Is that what you call them?"

She scoffed, but it was off, hollow and strange. "I don't know who else ' _them'_  would be."

He wished that he could comfort her, embrace her and fix everything, but he couldn't touch her. He couldn't even see her. "I'm not one of them."

The room warmed slightly. "I know. They only come when the light does." She paused for a minute. "What are you?"

Kristoff couldn't help but chuckle slightly. "I'm not a what. I'm a  _who_." He sat down cross legged on the floor, facing the other voice. "My name's Kristoff."

"Kristoff the Who…" Dark Elsa repeated inaccurately, trying out the words on her tongue.

"Well, not quite but…"

"Not quite what? Did you not say what you meant?"

The vault door lurched, and he heard Elsa scurry away, deeper into the strange room they were holding her in. "Elsa? Elsa!"

"That's enough for today, Sergeant," The Professor replied from behind.

Kristoff whipped around at him with a glare as he stood up. "Why did you lock me in here?"

He cocked his head. "It wasn't obvious? She spoke to you didn't she?"

"Why are you asking me?" Kristoff snapped back, approaching the exit. "You had surveillance, didn't you?"

He shook his masked head. "Not in that room. Your magic is unique, Sergeant. It doesn't come out unless you're being completely genuine with something. Now, how are you to do that if you suspect that you're being monitored?"

"I'm not the one with the ice powers. You do realize that, don't you?"

The Professor turned away on the heel of one of his boots and began walking away. "Don't patronize me. Of course I'm aware of that."

Kristoff frowned as he tried to keep up with the man's quick and purposeful pace, "Then what did you mean by-"

The Professor was ignoring him, instead looking at Maskface, who was now standing in the hall. The commander pointed to Kristoff. "Secure and escort him to his quarters. Force is permitted."

"Yes, Professor." Maskface stared at Kristoff as he spoke, and began to approach, pulling a baton out from where it has been secured on his back and twirling it in his hand.

"Why won't anyone give me any goddamn answers?!"

"Because there are still far too many questions," the Professor replied simply, and with that cryptic remark, the baton struck the side of Kristoff's head, and everything was simply gone.

— —

With the wind howling and whistling in deep tones, snow was carried swiftly, forming a ceaseless blizzard. A seemingly well-built figure dressed in brown and black furs, with his face hidden by a closely-drawn hood, reached the crest of a hill, sniffing at the swirling air and squinting through the maelstrom.

"We are near!" he shouted, seemingly at no one, until a group of six others came into view from over the crest, dressed similarly. It was Oaken's band.

"How near?" Asked Eugene, who stood directly beside the lead figure.

"If it were a clear day, we'd be able to see it from here."

He sighed, "Fat chance of that happening."

Oaken squinted through the elements, his wind-burnt face hardened against them. "He won't be able to hide for much longer. This is the only real pass into the valley. He's cornered."

"Which makes him even more desperate," a new voice added, feminine but strong. Unlike the others, she didn't wear any headgear. It was primarily because she simply couldn't; her voluminous braid of golden blonde hair extended down her back to her calves, whipping slightly in the strong breeze.

"A cornered rat is the most dangerous kind," the group's shortest member mused. He had a stony face and hair that almost resembled straw, the features of Pablo Terran.

"Are we all taking turns saying things?" Asked the man at the back of the group, who wore a feather in his cap and was absently floating above the ground.

"Only if we actually had something worth saying," the short blonde woman beside him retorted, staring out at the gray-blue sky with folded arms and a deeply-etched scowl.

"Silence!" The first man roared. "I am trying to listen!" His voice was heavily accented in French and almost sounded like a growl. He was still for a long moment before flinching. "Mon dieu…the rat is already trapped."

Oaken frowned, "What do ya mean by that, beastie?"

The beast turned to Oaken, "It's the compound. Callaghan's compound."

Pabbie sighed, "Then we are too late. The Queen will soon abscond to her throne, and all we have done will have been for naught.

"Perhaps.", Oaken remarked dejectedly. "I just hope that they can learn from the past."

"Only time will tell."

Oaken sighed. "Indeed."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, WG!Kristoff is a bit older than canon Kristoff. I felt the change was necessary in order to make room for his more extensive past and increased maturity.


	21. Frostbite

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is by far the latest update ever, but it's finally here! I told you I wasn't going to give up on this one; we're way too far in to turn back now. Thank you all for your patience, and enjoy this chapter!

After Elsa had calmed from her breakdown, her anguish sought refuge within her fatigue. I carried her up to the sparse and cramped living space that had been prepared on the second floor of the warehouse and gently lowered her onto the mattress provided. She shifted out of my arms the moment she touched down, turning away from me and curling up into a tight and reclusive ball, simultaneously shunning and retreating from the rest of the world.

I sighed. I couldn't really blame her reacting like this. Considering the fact that we were literally surrounded by harsh and unforgiving reminders of her most grievous mistakes, Elsa no doubt felt the eyes of celestial judgement looking down upon her and finding her unworthy, the weight of all her sins tipping the scales of justice out of her favor. It was a terrible and familiar feeling that I was acquainted with personally; such is the burden of a soldier who has done the things that I have done. I stood and gave Elsa's shoulder a light, comforting squeeze, afraid that doing anything more would only upset her further. Taking in the sight of her once more as she lay on the bed, more closely resembling a scared little girl than anything else in the world, I decided to give her some space.

I left the room and stood at the top of the stairwell I had previously climbed on my way up. From the elevated vantage, I could see the entirety of the main warehouse floor, and it became clear that there were far more sculptures than I had originally thought. They also appeared to be organized, sorted meticulously, though by what rhymes or reasons, I didn't entirely know. Chronology was the most likely candidate, but I, of course, had no way of verifying it.

I came down to the ground floor and began to peruse the near countless aisles with objective curiosity. I didn't realize that I was looking for something in particular until it became apparent that it was missing; I couldn't find Sven anywhere. A couple others were missing as well—quite a handful actually. In fact, I was almost certain that most of them  _were_  there earlier...

_I must be in a different section,_ I reasoned simply. Before I could ponder on it any further, I remembered that our car, our flamboyant fire hydrant of a vehicle, was still parked over by the busted gate. All our efforts at hiding from our pursuers would have been for naught if someone happened to notice that conspicuous convertible. I cursed myself for making such a rookie mistake and went to tell Elsa where I would be lest she should succumb to panic from my unannounced absence.

Elsa was sitting up when I entered the room. Her arms were wrapped around her shins and her chin was pressed into her knees. Faded blue eyes stared blankly into oblivion and the depths of her inner darkness, and her body was still. She didn't react at all when I came in.

"Elsa?" I called gently. I received no response. Unable any longer to stand seeing her in such a depressed state, I came around to kneel before her, hoping to be able to meet her downcast eyes, though they continued their vacant stare. "It's all in the past, Elsa," I placated, but she was still deaf to my words.

I exhaled a suppressed sigh. My frustration was building, and all of my attempts to placate my charge were failing. Within that moment of helplessness, however, I thought back to what Elsa had said to me before we had entered this place, this morbid treasure trove of painful mistakes and memories that all shone like frostbitten sapphires.

" _It's not what's in there that scares me. It's what you'll think of it—what you'll think of_ me  _after you see this."_

I closed my eyes and let pure and unfiltered sincerity flow into my words. "This doesn't change anything, Elsa—between us, at least. You're still the same caring, kind, and unbelievably strong woman that I've always known. I still love you, Elsa, and I always will. You don't have to live in fear of that anymore."

Her eyes flicked to mine though she didn't otherwise move or say anything. Even so, her gaze had regained the steel that it once had, and even that was enough. I smiled sheepishly.

After an eternity, her brow furrowed in disconcertion, and she finally spoke, nonplussed. "You're okay with loving a murderer?" Elsa reiterated skeptically.

"These were accidents," I countered, scratching the back of my head awkwardly. My own cloud of guilt, an ominous, cumulonimbus monstrosity of condensated darkness, came down to earth and began to rain upon me, drenching me in a depressing downpour of self-deprecating melancholy. "If anything,  _I'm_  the murderer. I've been in the field, and I've been in combat; my hands are far from clean. I don't have much of any right to judge you."

Elsa's gaze softened with sympathy. "You were a soldier. You did what needed to be done."

"I did what I was  _told_  to do," I snapped bitterly, shaking my head with shame. "I was merely a pawn of my superiors—a well-trained and lethal one, but a pawn nonetheless. I've done a lot of things I'm not proud of, Elsa, and I don't think I was fighting for the right side for most of them." I dropped down from a kneeling position to sit fully on the ground and rested an arm on my knee. "So you see," I began, and chuckled suddenly, cynically. "Even with your past accidents, you're still an angel in my eyes."

Elsa blushed scarlet despite herself, much like I thought she would, and I clasped her hands within mine. "So now I'll ask you. Are  _you_  okay with loving a murderer?"

Elsa closed her eyes and exhaled deeply before slowly opening them again. "There's no need for labels, Kris. To me, you're still the same man you always were—the same man that I fell in love with. I'll take you as you are, regardless of the past. The only thing that matters now is the present." A small smile slowly spread across her face, bunching up her pale, freckled, tear-stained cheeks in an endearing and adorable fashion, and I attempted to match it with a grin of my own. I still couldn't come close.

I nodded marginally. "I suppose you're right, though a little foresight couldn't hurt, which is why I should probably bring our obnoxious little firetruck in from the front gate." Elsa chuckled at that. Seizing an opportunity, I kissed her hand, which was still held in my own.

She laughed in surprise at the incredibly outdated gesture and let out an uncharacteristic  _snort_  before clamping a hand over her mouth and her reddening face.

I burst out laughing."That's a new one!"

Elsa shoved me away playfully, blushing furiously. "Shut up! Go get the car already, you oaf!"

"If you insist," I replied with mock injury. I then swooped in to place a quick peck on her cheek before sauntering out of the room.

My smile refused to leave my face as I descended the metal stairs, and the warm and buoyant feeling continued to uplift me even as I ventured back toward the gate.

The trip itself went without incident, and after I had returned the vehicle and parked it in a neighboring warehouse, I strode out of the hangar, only to witness a sight that sent me diving back toward the cover of the shadows.

There was a man, walking oddly, crookedly and stiffly as if most of his bones were either fused together or non-functional. He was silent and stared upward blankly as he hobbled along. He hadn't noticed me yet, and I had a feeling that he wouldn't anytime soon. Setting aside his undoubtedly odd disposition, I was for some reason more preoccupied with wondering why there were people here; Elsa had given the impression that there wasn't any staff located in the compound, so why was this guy hobbling along here? Was he another refugee?

As the light caught and  _glinted_ off of him, I suddenly had my answer; that luster was identical to what I had seen on the frozen statues. His movements were stiff because he was frozen solid.

I burst from the hangar like a hurtling maglev train, my boots gnashing against gravel, splashing through it and sending it up in showers of rock behind me as I dashed across the stretch of concrete between me and the entrance of warehouse 7101 like a plane hurtling down a runway. I thanked the stars that that animated statue couldn't hear or sense much of anything around itself; it had nearly toppled over a couple times while I made my passage.

As I skidded to a stop inside our warehouse, it became immediately apparent that more of the frosted victims were missing. My feet picked up again, carrying me to Elsa with panicked urgency. My blood pulsed through my veins like the explosive force from a combustion engine, and all the while, I continuously cursed myself for not acting on my previous suspicions.

_How could I have been so blind? So complacent?_  I griped internally as I began my ascent of the staircase, my grip on the railing a stranglehold and my teeth clenched with self-directed fury and shame. Over the stretch of time between our departure from Arendelle and our arrival at the complex, I had lost sight of my responsibilities. My constantly vigilant manner had fizzled out in the presence of the most convivial distraction in this entire freezing world. I had been a damned lovestruck fool, had forgotten that I was supposed to  _protect_ her, and now my inexcusable lack of foresight may have cost the life of the only person who truly mattered anymore.

"Elsa!"

I barreled through the door into the room, scaring the blonde woman half to death and causing her to leap from the bed and stand with her arms wrapped around her middle. "What?! What's wrong? Did they find us? How-"

Her questions were cut off by my sudden my mind at the current moment, it all felt to be nothing short of a miracle. I vowed then and there to never lose sight of what mattered. Her heart  _had_  to keep beating, her lungs  _needed_  to keep breathing, and her mind  _needed_  to stay clear. Elsa  _must_  survive, for, without her, I knew—finally realized in this latest link of my chain of epiphanies, that I had nothing else.  _No one else_.

My inner drama was being communicated entirely through the embrace that I had enveloped her in, but even then, there was only so much that could be communicated with an overly-tight bear hug that pinned the unfortunate victim's arms to their sides.

"Kris? What's wrong?" Elsa choked out. I let go immediately and she stumbled slightly from the sudden shifting, lightning resting a hand on my chest for a moment to prevent from falling. A soft finger traced across my cheek and moved to the next one. It felt cold. Wet.

"You are going to survive," I said aloud, caught up as I was in my adamance. I opened my eyes and locked them with hers. "We have a situation."

Her gaze became downcast. "So they've finally caught up with us..."

"Not quite. It's...your storm."

She frowned, not comprehending. "What do you mean?"

An ungodly scream emanated from behind me, and I whipped around to find a frozen woman rushing up the stairs. Her eyes were not trained on me, but on something behind me.

_Hell no._

As the dead woman passed the top of the stairs, she found a heel slammed into her chest and toppled backwards, tumbling down the stairs, her icy flesh chipping on the metal, before ultimately exploding against the concrete ground in a spectacular shower of cerulean and crimson shards of frozen gore.

"What the hell?!" Elsa cried, overwhelmed and on the verge of complete panic.

I turned, still catching my breath from my sudden exertion, to find her staring in horror at the doorway. "I don't entirely know how, but those statues are all coming back! We need to get out of here!"

She rushed toward the door and peaked out before I had a chance to pull her back. I followed her gaze and began to realize the futility of the situation.

The shelves were empty, and the frozen undead were approaching us as a horde. "This was the last thing I expected to happen when I woke up this morning," Elsa grumbled.

"Tell me about it. So much for this place being safe."

Elsa clicked her tongue, "remind me to nag at you for that after we get out of here."

A surge in the volume of the screeching seized our attention. The group of walkers had reached the stairs and currently were shoving each other as they all simultaneously attempted to ascend the now-seemingly-rickety metal construct that connected our temporary shelter to the ground. I slammed the door closed and locked it, not really having much of any faith that it would actually be able to hold up against the cumulative force of a raging horde of frost zombies, but figuring it was better than nothing; a half second can often make all the difference in a life-or-death scenario, especially if it's close-combat one.

I turned around to locate Elsa and found her blasting bone-chilling vapor at the far wall. At least one of us had already formed some kind of plan. Crystals began to coat everything as her torrent of sleet sucked all of the heat out of the air, and frost crunched under my shoes as I pursued the opportunity to gather our supplies, a task that was mercifully simple since I had previously insisted that we pack as light as reasonably possible and keep what little luggage we did have in one singular place. At least I had remembered to think that far ahead.

A new groaning sound pierced the air as the metal walls shifted and reacted to the sudden change in temperature. It was shortly followed by an explosive thud from the opposite end of the room, a sound of impending doom that emanated from the locked door as the first members of the undead reached and began to thrash against it. Dents were forming across the surface and the frame of the door at an alarming rate. It wasn't going to hold out for much longer. I looked back at Elsa, who continued her constant stream of ice. It was taking a visual toll on her, sagging her shoulders and bringing back that concealed yet evident mask of tiredness, one which was always given away by her eyes. She wasn't going to hold out for much longer.

The wall in front of her looked relatively frozen from my point of view, but was it brittle enough for us to break through? I honestly had no idea, but the door creaked just then, groaned like a ferocious, dying beast, reminding me of the urgency of our situation. There wasn't time to plan anything further—it was do or die, improvise or perish. I ducked my head and barreled toward Elsa.

She yelped as I wrapped and tucked her into my arms, but I continued to rush headlong toward the wall, hoping to God—if he even still exists—that this was going to work.

To put it as simply as possible, it hurt like hell. It was like a linebacker tackling a brick wall at full speed, like trying to dash into platform nine-and-three-quarters at King's Cross only to realize that I was, in fact,  _not_  a wizard, and that I, as a foolish and recently injured Muggle, would  _not_  be going to Hogwarts.

On the brighter side, the subsequent glass-like shatter of chilled metal was a welcoming sound. After that, however, the situation darkened even further. I felt the unpleasantly familiar feeling of being airborne, and belatedly realized my mistake; I had just tackled us through a wall and into the open air, three whole stories above the ground. Like a sadist scrubbing rock salt into an open and festering wound, my brain reminded me that the ground was of pebbly gravel and unforgiving concrete, and I somehow managed to cringe even harder.

— —

The next thing I remembered, everything was dark. I was on the ground, and something was tugging at me, or at least seemed to feel that way; you'd think that after having reawakened from unconsciousness so many times in the past that I'd be able to get over the disorientation rather quickly, but I had not, and resolved that I probably never would. I groggily opened a protesting eye to find a blurry shape standing over me. As my vision continued to sharpen marginally, I recognized the figure to be Elsa, whom I now realize—in retrospect as I write this—was attempting to drag me across the ground. There was a splash of blood on her cheek, standing out on her pale skin like red paint on a white canvas. I could only hope that it wasn't her own. Tears were streaming down her face, blurring the blood where the two fluids intersected, running in tracks down her pale and dirty flesh, which was dusted with grit and frost and twisted with agony and pain. Everything else was still blurry, and all of the sounds that I could even hear were muffled; it was frosted glass over my eyes and packed snow over my ears. I tried to call out, but my mouth and jaw still weren't responding. Whether it was due to my current state or—god forbid—the  _absence_ of the concerned piece of anatomy, I couldn't say.

No pun intended.

Elsa looked up sharply at a sound that I couldn't hear, and a sight that I couldn't see drew her face into a repudiating grimace as she waved her arm outward forcefully. The ground rumbled behind me with daunting force, and Elsa pulled her attention away from the interruption, returning back to the task of pulling me after her. I knew I was heavy, and my soggy, half-conscious mind marveled at her endurance.

We were soon cast into shadow, and Elsa let go of me for a moment before stepping out of my field of view. I didn't want her to go.

"...Elsa?"

She was back in a flash, skidding over to me at the sound of my voice. "Kris!"

Her hands cupped my face with concern and felt like an embrace with fresh snowfall against my skin. It was a blessing in disguise, as I later realized; her caress was an icepack, and as the soothing feel numbed my face, I suddenly realized that I had been experiencing a crippling amount of pain. I must have landed on my face. How lovely.

"What happened?" I asked, my head still foggy along with practically everything else.

Elsa glared at me fiercely through her tears, the strands and the locks of her unruly platinum-blonde hair. "You tackled me out of a goddamn window, you  _idiot_! I thought you were dead!"

I frowned, puzzled and completely missing the point. "Well, I'm not. If you thought I was dead, though, why were you dragging me after you?"

She gave me a withering and pointed stare that was quickly eclipsed by the returning chill of her icy rage. "If you actually thought for even one  _second_  that I would even  _consider_  doing that, then you don't know me at all!" She sighed deeply and closed her eyes, her protective anger fading away with her exhalation. Her hands, still as hiemal as her element, grasped mine tightly. "I don't even know how you're still alive," she whispered, and her eyes flicked up to mine. "You landed on your head."

I smirked, "I got a thick skull, remember?"

She didn't laugh.

I frowned. "Elsa, what is it?"

She shook her head. "Now isn't the time. We're not out of the woods yet, and I don't know where you parked."

"It's in the warehouse across from the one we were hiding in."

Elsa bowed her head. "Shit."

I sighed. "Let me guess," I began, following Elsa's lithe form with my gaze as she stood and began to urgently dig around in one of our backpacks. "The frosties are still hanging around there, aren't they?" I ventured. Elsa stopped and turned to give me an odd look. "Frosties?"

I shrugged about as much as I could manage. "Hey, I'm still only half here; cut me some slack."

Elsa shrugged and went on with her search. "Well, to answer your question, yes, they're mostly still there. A few of them followed me, but most didn't leave the immediate area." She found what she was looking for and pulled it out of the bag, revealing it to be a first aid kit. She placed it before her and began to work, extracting a suture and some sort of salve, along with a couple of other things. "If they are acting under the will of the storm, though, they may be acting under a collective consciousness of sorts, in which case they are all probably coming this way," she pursed her lips and looked at me, "and you are in no condition to move."

I attempted a sigh, but it turned into a painful cough. "It sure seems that way," I remarked gruffly.

Elsa began her work on my injuries, performing a whole other kind of magic with surprising efficiency.

"Were you a nurse in another life?"

"I spent nearly a decade and a half with a library, the internet, and near constant solitude. I had a lot of time." She paused, "and Anna was always finding new ways to end up hurting herself." Her ministrations faltered as guilt crept through her nerves. "She still is."

I unfortunately had no more words for her this time, and as she adorned a new mask and once again bottled her pain within herself, I couldn't shake the ominous sense of foreboding that was beginning to take over me. I physically shuddered at her regression back towards repression.

"Hold still, please."

"Sorry."

— —

"How long are you going to fucking keep us in here?! Let me out of here right now or I'll clock you so hard that you'll never know what time it is!"

Kristoff sighed, dropped the journal onto his lap, and rested the back of his head against the wall his cot was pushed up against. "Just give it a rest, will ya? You're an idiot if you really think they'll just let you out because you told them to."

The series of creaks that followed informed him that Anna had flopped down onto her own thin excuse of a mattress. "I don't speak to traitors," she grumbled with folded arms.

Kristoff shook his head, unseen. "I'm not a traitor. I'm just playing this smart."

"By  _betraying_  us."

"I think that prof guy made his point about cooperation  _pretty_ clear, Anna. I know you're still reeling from what happened to Olaf, but-"

She scoffed in abject shock. "And you're  _not?!_ "

"He isn't the first friend who I've seen die, Anna, and this most definitely isn't the first time I was helpless to do anything about it either. You know that. The fact of the matter is that if we're going to get out of this damned hellhole, we're gonna have to play the professor's stupid game."

"But if we do that, they'll  _win!_ " Anna rebutted incredulously.

"That's not really our problem if it gets us out of here."

The frigidity of his selfish words surprised Anna. "How can you say that?" She questioned half-rhetorically, her voice reduced to a shocked whisper.

"Because it's true," was Kristoff's concise reply.

Anna sighed in exasperation as the furious and ferocious heat of the molten volcano of anger that festered, raged and burned within her lead the thin layer of her dismay to boil away as vapor, exposing the rancor beneath it. She leapt to her feet and yelled through the wall as if it weren't even there. " _You_  might think so, but that's just because you've been hiding away like a goddamn hermit on top of a desolate mountain for the past five years! You don't have any damn idea how things work out here! You don't even really know who we're dealing with, do you?"

Kristof ground his teeth, and his hands clenched the book in his hands, but he said nothing.

"This is  _Callaghan's compound_! This is as close to a burning hell as you can ever get in this frozen wasteland! They have the most resources and already hold enough power over this  _entire_  goddamn region to oppress and squash  _every single fucking settlement out here_ , and you're okay with just letting them get whatever the hell they want?!"

She dropped to her knees as the eruption passed, the magma, now lava, running down the sides of the mountain as tears, trailing through the ever-present dirt on her face, slowly cooling and drying. Her mouth and mind were filled with toxic venom and the bitterness of ash. "You are  _nothing_  compared to the man you used to be. There's not a damn way in hell Elsa could ever fall for someone like you."

Kristoff growled, his once long fuse was now burned short, and he snapped. "You shut your damn mouth!"

The loud and hollow clang of metal rang out as a baton clanged against the bars of kristoff's cell, jarring the both of them. "Silence, prisoners!" Maskface's distorted voice bellowed.

They were silent, and after a moment or so, the guard left. They remained that way for some time, brooding and dejected, cynical and miserable.

Ultimately, their will to speak returned. "She's still alive, you know," Kristoff said quietly, his voice clear in the surrounding silence.

" _I_  wasn't the one who ever thought she was dead."

Kristoff ignored her comment, absorbed by the memories he was beginning to relive through his mind's eye. "I saw her. The took me down to show her."

Anna stiffened in fear, at first from his actual words, but then from the depressed tone of his voice.

"They've done something to here, Anna—something  _terrible_. She's hardly even herself anymore..." He trailed off in his misery, knees drawn up to his chest, before closing his eyes and composing himself with a deep breath. "I'm not stupid, and contrary to popular belief, I  _do_ know something about what goes on out here. I agree that these people here deserve the worst that this universe can give them, but  _we_  need to get out of here. We need to get  _her_  out of here, and if that means giving these bastards  _exactly_  what they want, then  _so be it_. We have our own priorities. Nothing is more important than protecting the ones that you love."

Anna smiled darkly, the roiling anger that she felt towards their captors mixing and catalyzing with the pride of knowing her sister's lover still retained at least a part of the better man that he used to be. "Then it seems I have misunderstood you, Kristoff. I'm glad your heart's still in the right place, right where it used to be."

Kristoff chuckled mirthlessly, "I wouldn't go that far; after having it broken so viciously before, there was no way it could've been mended back up the same way. You have no need to worry about my resolve, though. I'll see this through to the end, that much I swear—by doves or by blood, I swear it."

Anna yawned. "Good. We're probably going to need to refine that previous plan of yours, though. You're not…alone...anymore..."

She was silent as she drifted off without warning, and soon began to snore lightly. Kristoff chuckled, and sensing an opportunity for some rare peace and quiet, returned to the journal and the memoirs of the past that lay within it.

— —

"If it's any consolation, they're already dead. If that guy from before told us anything, it's that they're all being animated by the ice magic alone; people don't really do too well without their heads, after all."

Elsa hesitated, the conflict clearly evident in her gaze as she continued her work. She was in the process of stitching up a long, deep gash on my arm, which I had likely inflicted on myself when I bashed through the metal wall. I had been gritting my teeth throughout the entire process; the pre-measured anesthesia syringes that came with these kits were slow-acting and not all that strong to begin with. Having had a lifetime to acquaint myself with a variety and abundance of pain was the only thing preventing me from crying out at every plunge of the needle and every pull of the thread.

Elsa sighed, "Even so..." she tugged on the thread, pulling it taut, and I grunted at the discomfort. "Sorry."

"You  _have_  done this before, right doc?"

"I don't have a Ph.D., Kristoff," She corrected dryly, too focused on her work to realize that she was taking things a bit too literally. The needle pricked my skin again and she continued. "To answer your question, though, yes, I  _have_  done this before. Some years ago, Anna had taken it upon herself to ride her bike  _inside_  the house—heaven knows why—and naturally ended up crashing into a suit of armor in the most spectacularly frightening fashion. She had acquired a few bruises and cut her leg open on the edge of the metal."

I shook my head and chuckled a little. "That definitely sounds like Anna. I think I remember that suit, actually. I always wondered why it was there."

"It's always been there. If you recall, my family is actually descended from the line of royalty that used to preside over this whole region. My surname is no coincidence."

I was rendered with surprise by this. She had never spoken about this before. "I actually don't think you ever explained this before."

Elsa cocked her head, sparing me a glance before returning her gaze to the stitching with a shrug. "I'm fairly sure that I did."

"When I had asked you about why the townspeople back in Arendal were acting like a mob of fangirls, you said that you would explain it to me once we got situated in the hotel. Once we did that though, well...you know the rest as well as I do."

Elsa sighed deeply. "I'm so sorry that I put you through that. It was selfish of me, and only succeeded in furthering our misery."

"It's already been resolved; you don't need to beat yourself up about it. You also weren't entirely to blame. We both were. That's enough about that, though—what's this about you being  _royalty?_ "

Elsa shook her head, somewhat amused, somewhat embarrassed. Her cheeks were reddening. "I'm not royalty, only a descendant of one who was."

"Is that not the same thing? It was royal blood that defined a royal, wasn't it?"

She shrugged in concession, "Generally, yes, though things get a little complicated once you through a bastard or two into the mix."

"Ah."

"That's not even to mention how the authority of the ruling waned with the rise of republican governments, but that's a whole other deal. My family is descended from the illegitimate child of Queen Elsa—the first Elsa, if you will—the one regarded by local myths and legends as the 'Snow Queen'."

I was rather taken aback. "That's…quite a curious coincidence," I commented. I looked down at my arm and was surprised to find that she was now tending to my other less urgent injuries and that my main wound was already stitched up. I had been so absorbed in her explanation that I hadn't even noticed the pain that accompanied her efforts, or even its absence.

"It wasn't. From what my parents had told me, my powers were apparently manifesting even while my mother was pregnant with me. Upon realizing what was happening, they seemed to think the name would be fitting, and I suppose it was," She looked out toward the single, small window present in the room we were in, which was the office placed within the new warehouse, and beheld the frozen tempest that now danced outside, "Though I most certainly have outdone her." She sighed. "Even after the family's power waned and began to be controlled by the national government, the townspeople still held my family in rather high regard. Most of the manor staff lived there, and they see us as the founders of the town. After my parents passed, they became all the more willing to please us. She turned back to her work before pausing, and frowned in puzzlement.

"Something wrong?" I asked as she lifted my other arm and began to search for something on my skin.

"Your bruises...they're  _gone._ "

"What do you mean?"

She brushed through my hair, but not sensually, likely searching for the wound my fall had inflicted upon my abused cranium. She was becoming progressively more flustered as the search went on.

"How can this have healed up already?" She undid my jacket with deft fingers and pulled it off of me before then tugging off half of my shirt to look at where Syd had impaled me almost a month ago. Nothing remained of the wound but a faded scar, a slight discoloration of skin tissue that was hardly noticeable.

We were so deep in the game that this hardly even surprised me. "Well, it's beginning to look as if you're not the only one of us who's magical."

Elsa frowned, "But why is it only manifesting now?"

I sat up and began to put the rest of my clothes back on. "I don't know, but I'd rather take it as a blessing than question it, for now at least. We can try figuring it out when we aren't in a fight or a race for our lives. Let's get out of here; the frosties will likely be here soon, and I've had enough of warehouses these past two days to last me a very long time."

Elsa smirked as she followed me up a staircase. "Well said."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, canon is canon (basically). Imagine that.
> 
> Questions? Comments? Concerns? Praise? Declarations of vengeance? Feel free to drop them in the reviews, and I'll try to get the next chapter to you all more quickly than this one!


	22. Break

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back, and hopefully I'll be returning to something resembling a sane update schedule. It's been a rough couple of semesters, but it wasn't fair of me to leave you all hanging, so without further ado, here is Chapter 22.

The door closed heavily, casting the chamber into isolated darkness and silence once more.

"Hello, again," the familiar feminine voice chirped.

Kristoff couldn't help but smile in the dark at the greeting, and even after he had fumbled his way through the shadows to his usual spot on the floor and sat down, his grin still hadn't faded. "Hi."

"How are you today?" She inquired, polite as ever.

Kristoff shrugged reflexively, though the gesture was, of course, unseen. "Oh you know, about the same; still getting crappy food, still being kept 'safe' behind the bars of my cell, just _all_ the luxuries. It's totally peachy."

Elsa laughed a little, the sound just a hollow echo of what it once was. No matter how close she came to resembling the woman she had once been—and she had indeed made remarkable progress since they had begun—the damaged state of her fragile, tortured mind remained painfully obvious. The grim reminder served as an anchor for Kristoff's mood, locking down and holding in place the subdued air that encapsulated all of his interactions with Dark Elsa. Humor at most only buffeted their nautical vessel of dialogue in the wake of subtle waves, but it would in time sail them into warmer waters, or so Kristoff hoped.

It had now been three weeks since Kristoff and the others had been detained in the wilderness and brought to the compound, three weeks since these puzzling sessions had begun, and he still didn't have a single damn idea what Callaghan was expecting from him. Other than Elsa's slowly growing comfort with him, her new visitor, Kristoff had not witnessed anything that he believed the professor would accept as progress. His frustration manifested as silence and the tightening of his jaw.

"You're quiet," Elsa observed attentively.

"So are you."

"Is something wrong?"

Kristoff sighed, the last vestiges of his smile fading, replaced now with a worried frown. He decided to open with honesty. "I don't really know why I'm here. I don't know what the people here expect me to accomplish."

Elsa frowned in the darkness. "Did they not explain that to you when they brought you here?"

Kristof knit his hands together, now beginning to doubt his decision to tread down the path of candor, and hesitated before speaking, "I... not quite. They say they want me to...awaken something within you. They seem convinced that I have some sort of special power, some ability to do this, and that it that only comes out when I act as my "genuine self"...or something." He sighed wearily, dragging a hand through his now incredibly oily hair—they had never been permitted a chance to wash it during their time in custody. "I honestly don't really know what to think about it, or what it actually means."

"So you're working for the demons." Elsa asserted, her tone unreadably flat.

"Not by choice," Kristoff parried defensively.

She huffed in amusement, "Obviously. You're most definitely not _one_ of them." Her voice dropped to a murmur, "You're far too kind."

Kristoff smiled as much as his dampened mood would allow, and an inner darkness, brought forth by bitter, secondhand memories, began to enshroud him, twisting his heartfelt joy into self-deprecating solemnity. "Only relatively."

"What do you mean?"

The now familiar thunk of the vault locks disengaging reverberated through the darkened chamber, once again too early, like every other time before it.

Kristoff sighed and turned back toward Elsa's voice."I'll see you soon," he promised, though he received no reply. She was gone, having scurried away at the first hint of the light, like every other time before. When the rays from the room beyond the vault shone in and through the glass partition, they lit up only a floor of smooth, painted concrete. It was as if she was never even there.

— —

Morning came as abruptly as always, a sharp flickering of stark fluorescent lights, set aglow by the current let loose through their wires, turning on and blazing always far too early as they banished any and every chance one had of returning to sleep for the rest of the day. Accustomed to this inane and antagonistic ritual, Kristoff merely sighed and rolled onto his back, his eyes still closed, and waited for the five seconds that would precede Maskface's trudge toward their holding cells with the usual meager trays of the same bland meal. The "meal" was, in essence, slop on a plate, a grotesque and only-somewhat-edible mixture of what Kristoff guessed to be the leftover rations from the soldiers, or perhaps even the feed previously reserved for the small contingent of livestock that was present in the compound; he had heard lowing from outside on a few occasions. Kristoff felt it to be a form of mockery, as it was given to him, a man held captive in a metal pen for a purpose determined by his captors. To them, both he and Anna were nothing more than swine on two legs.

As Kristoff waited for the less than pleasant morning ritual to run its course, he was surprised to hear a different set of footsteps approaching their cells. These did not follow the uncoordinated and weighty gait of his eccentric, thickheaded jailer; these were measured and quick—not rushed, but purposeful. Something about their steady rhythm portrayed self-assurance, confidence, perhaps even arrogance. _You can tell a lot about a person by the way they walk_ , Kristoff mused. He opened his eyes, squinting at first against the harsh light of the small room, and sat up on his cot. The footsteps continued until their owner had come to stand before the cell door, revealing his identity, and in doing so, sent Kristoff's hopes plunging headfirst toward to the unforgiving ground.

The visitor matched Kristoff's depressed frown with a confident smirk, his resigned slouch with a straightened spine, and his deadened eyes with an arrogant and slightly unhinged leer.

"Hans," Kristoff muttered, feeling too dejected to adequately express his hatred for the loathsome man. He was clothed entirely in white—a three-piece suit and tie ensemble with combat boots, all as pale white and reflective as virgin snow. Against it, his rusty hair contrasted like a flare and almost appeared to simmer.

"Mountain man," Hans mirrored back. He thrust a tray of food through the slot in the bars, sending it sliding and spinning across the floor to rest halfway between the two of them. Some of the mess had spilled from the tray.

"I know it's early—so early, in fact, that it hardly makes sense to call it 'morning', really—but the Professor has requested that you visit the subject."

"Callaghan doesn't _request_ anything," Kristoff spat.

Hans shrugged loosely. "Semantics," he drawled airily, before sharply doubling over as he coughed violently and repeatedly into a handkerchief before pocketing it as if nothing had happened. The aloof manner of it managed to make it even more unsettling. Hans then turned to his right, where Anna's cell lay, and addressed his next words to her with an esoteric smirk. "He has also asked for _you_ to accompany us."

Kristoff froze, and across the wall, Anna did the same. She scowled dangerously at the auburn snake of a man, her teal eyes like a blazing corona of nebulous blue-green fire surrounding an eclipsed star.

She had only one word for him, and she spat it. "Why?"

He cocked his head condescendingly, "I wouldn't look into it too much if I were you."

"Like I'd ever take _your_ advice."

Hans merely chuckled and smiled. "As feisty as ever, I see," he remarked as he sauntered forward, procuring keys and handcuffs from within his jacket before prepared the pair for transit. After it was done and the two of them were secured, both by their own "personal" handcuffs as well as an additional one that bound the two of them together, they set off down the hall with Hans in the lead.

"No funny business, you two," he warned, turning on a heel as he moved, now walking backwards, and opened half of his jacket to reveal the massive, shiny, silver hand cannon that was holstered at his side. "The professor may have said that I'm not allowed to kill you, but he didn't say anything about not being able to _shoot_ you." He grinned, a bit too widely, and spun back around, letting his coat fall back into place with a dramatic wave of the hand.

Anna shot a wary glance toward Kristoff, who also appeared troubled, but not by the thinly veiled threat—such things hardly phased the pair of them anymore. The anxiety that now began to course through them was instead born from the recent unexpected changes. Naturally, for Anna, the prospect of seeing her sister again filled her with nervous excitement, but as she pondered over her own thoughts, she realized that she was perhaps even more worried than Kristoff. Something was different, and their treatment at the hands of their captors thus far made holding a blind expectation of any degree of goodwill nothing short of foolish.

— —

The elevator doors opened on the lab floor to the usual influx of mist from the hall beyond, a fact now considered rather mundane by all of the elevator's occupants. Standing dramatically in the midst of the fog, the unmistakable, towering form of the Professor was silhouetted against the overhead lights behind him. Anna glared, Hans stiffened, and Kristoff was unfazed.

"Syd, what is the meaning of this?" The Professor asked, the acoustics of the hall amplifying the power and authority within his steeled tone.

Hans somehow managed to spread a diplomatic smile across his nervous, twitching face, though its stability was not well maintained. "Anna has not yet seen her sister. I had simply thought that bringing both of our guests to visit her would yield more interesting results."

"You willingly admit to disregarding my explicit orders?" The Professor inquired in confirmation, his tone flat yet carrying a threat as blatant as gunpoint.

Hans swallowed nervously. "I meant no disrespect, sir."

"It is not your intent that matters, only what is." The Professor turned his attention to the outsiders, his mask hiding the thoughts roiling within him. "This will indeed be interesting," he conceded as he began to approach the group. "I agree with you. I understand your reasoning."

Hans' head whipped to the side sharply as the Professor struck him, yielding the crack of impacted skin and a gout of blood that speckled the white walls with dots of crimson. Hans took it silently, eyes glassy, head down—submissive.

"I will not, however, condone insubordination. If it is beneficial, I will do it myself. If I do not, you may suggest it, but you will _not_ act on it without my orders. Is that clear?"

Syd, bloodied and thoroughly cowed, still had his gaze downcast. "Yes, sir."

The Professor gestured to the rest of his captives, and they trekked their way down the hall, leaving behind a reprimanded Hans. As the others turned the corner and went out of sight, the veneer of his mask fell away. He slumped heavily into the wall with a grunt and coughed, wetly, further darkening his copper stained handkerchief. He would need to obtain a new one soon; it was almost entirely saturated with his blood. His hand clenched it tightly, ignoring the crimson that leaked out down his hand, and his face contorted in a grimace of pain, of suffering, of anger, of rancorous hatred, but it soon fell away, pushed aside by a rising satisfaction. If everything continued to go as planned, it would all be over soon. All of the abuse, all of the oppression, and all of the suffering would finally be worth it. The only thing left to do now was to wait.

— —

One can hear many things from within the realm of darkness. The remaining senses, capitalizing on the massive void of attention left behind by the departure of one's sight, magnify in strength and fidelity in a grand attempt at recompense. Elsa heard and felt the particular, frequent shiftings and subtle vibrations that always accompanied approaching footfalls. Her heart leapt within her chest as it had every day for the past trio of weeks, and she smiled to herself, though she no longer knew the name for the expression. The loyal blonde denizen of the shadows crept closer to the barrier, eagerly awaiting the brief conversation that was the only bright point of her day. As the entourage approached, however, Elsa noticed that there was something different today, something unprecedented. Before, there were always only four: the two who never spoke, the tall one—she could derive the length of their strides from the positions of their steps—whose imposing voice singled him out as the lead authority, and Kristoff. Today, there were five.

A symphony of gears began to shift, clicking and groaning as the immense vault door opened once again. Kristoff and Anna both made their way inside, the latter much more hesitantly, and once they were in, the portcullis was sealed behind them, encasing them in the darkness. Silence filled the space left in the wake of the vault's closing, and once the pressure of it began to reach unbearable levels, Anna caved.

"Elsa?"

There was no response from the darkness.

"It's me, Anna. Your sister."

The room gave no reply beyond the reverb from her own voice. Anna began to wonder if there was even anyone there.

Kristoff spoke up. "We're both here, Elsa. Can you talk to us, please? Anna's been waiting a very long time to speak with you."

After a pause, Elsa shifted, and Anna immediately perked up at the sound. "Elsa!" she shouted excitedly, pitching forward in an attempt to bring herself closer, but was met with a gently restraining hand on her shoulder from Kristoff. She looked back at him in the darkness, confused.

"Not so loud. You'll frighten her," Kristoff admonished.

Anna blushed invisibly, embarrassed by the actions that her rash and impulsive nature had led to. Kristoff released his hold on her and approached the glass before dropping into a cross-legged sitting position. He directed Anna to do the same before turning to back to the barrier and clearing his throat.

"You don't need to be afraid, Elsa. Anna isn't going to hurt you."

"She's one of the demons." The blonde replied immediately, startling Anna. Her voice was small, and the hollow, fragile tone of it, which Kristoff was now used to, struck Anna hard as she heard it for the first time. The redhead felt a familiar waxing pressure in the corners of her eyes and the center of her chest and recognized it as the urge to cry.

Kristoff shook his head emphatically at Elsa's accusation and put out an unseen hand, the useless gesture, like all those before it, being merely a result of pure habit or reflex. " _No_! She's a friend, she's..." He paused, an idea coming to him. "...like me."

"...like you?"

"Yes."

Elsa shifted nervously, but without urgency.

"Her name is Anna," Kristoff said.

"Ah...na," Elsa recited slowly, trying out the syllables on her tongue. She found them oddly pleasant.

Anna nodded excitedly, "That's right!"

"Anna...Arendelle."

Kristoff and Anna froze.

The mountain man frowned in confusion, still stunned. "How did you-"

The door opened, and the tortured wraith fled further into the retreating darkness.

"Elsa!" Anna cried after her.

"That's enough for today," The Professor declared, his hands clasped firmly before him.

Anna whirled around on him and shouted indignantly, unintimidated by his significantly greater stature, "But she was about to remember something! I need more time! That wasn't enough!"

"Oh, I think it was more than enough. In fact, I believe that we will have to continue our studies with renewed vigor." He turned to the technician beside him, "Double all of her doses," he instructed. "Bring her as close to death as possible before she unravels all that we've done."

" _What?!"_ the redhead's eyes bulged with rage and indignance.

"Anna," Kristoff warned, eying Maskface's tightening grip on his baton and the small contingent of other guards that were present in the room. There were never this many before. Knowing about Anna's strength, they must not have wanted to take any chances. All of them were armed with the same black, extendable batons.

Anna stormed forward toward The Professor, not paying the guards any heed as they began to warily advance on her. She had eyes only for the man in the mask, the mastermind of her sister's misery. "You can't do this to her!"

"And why not? We've done it before. We'll do it again-"

Anna was already on The Professor before anyone had a chance to react. Her deceptively lithe body slammed into him with a brute forward tackle, picking him up off the floor and sending him skidding back into a large machine and a countertop. He stumbled into it gracelessly, tipping it over and sending an assortment of vials everywhere as his arms pinwheeled and groped blindly for quick purchase on the wall. The lab technicians screamed, the alarm was sounded, and the four surrounding guards converged on a raging Anna as she repeatedly wailed on the prostrate Professor, biting out words between her blows.

"You bastards! You _demons!_ You soulless _monsters_ -" Two of the soldiers had managed to tow her off of their commander, cutting her off. A third attempted to assist, but met her foot and ended up in a crumpled heap several meters away. "Get off of me!"

Kristoff continued to stand there for a moment, still stunned by how quickly the conflict around him had erupted. Kristoff had been waiting for an opportunity, a moment they could use to escape, but he had never once ever considered that they would get a chance to _create_ that opportunity. "To hell with it, _"_ he muttered before twisting around and driving his fist into his primary jailer's absurd masked face, cracking the glass and dropping the unsuspecting man straight to the ground.

He and Anna continued to fight their captors, moving the conflict toward the other end of the room. Unbeknownst to them all, the professor had drawn his sidearm and begun to rise.

A helmet shattered, twisting and flinging the broken form of the man who wore it as they collided with the full brunt of Anna's skin-split fists, her flesh being unable to withstand the strength of her own blows. She ignored the pain, fueled as she was by the rage that had consumed her. "Is that all you've got?!" she taunted, batting away the attack of the man who approached her from behind and using her momentum to bring her other arm around, grab the side of his head, and send him hurtling like a bullet into the opposite wall with a reverberating impact. Without the use of their guns, there was not much the soldiers could do against their attackers, and for the moment, the battle continued to skew further into the prisoners' favor. Endurance was not on their side, however—something that Kristoff knew all too well. The moment they faltered, the guards would overpower them, a fate that would be almost inevitable. There were simply too many of them.

Kristoff saw the glint of metal out of the corner of his eye and whipped around only to realize that he would be too late. Callaghan stood at the end of the room, his gun raised and aimed, not at Kristoff himself, but at something behind him. Some _one_ behind him. The former bodyguard's eyes widened. At this distance, there was nothing he could do, and both of the men knew it. Kristoff cried out in futile protest, and as he did, he could swear he felt the professor smile from beneath the mask.

The gun fired, and the room fell silent. The only exceptions were the metallic sound of the ejected shell clattering and bouncing across the hard ground and the dull thud of a body hitting the floor. Kristoff couldn't bring himself to move. The urge to turn was contested between his denial of what had just happened and the fear of what he would see. Eventually, he couldn't stand it anymore and turned, only to find a familiar, redheaded body sprawled across and bleeding on the white tiled floor.

Hans lay on the ground, surrounded by a growing pool of blood and an atmosphere of silent confusion. He lay in front of Anna, in a spot between her and the professor.

Kristoff's brows furrowed as his denial shifted. _He sacrificed himself...to save Anna?_ Kristoff was flabbergasted. It made no sense, none at all.

Anna seemed equally flummoxed, mixed as it was with her own shock; she hadn't even noticed the flecks of his blood that had found their way onto her cheek.

Callaghan lowered his gun and tutted. "What a waste. I don't think I'll ever understand why he did that," he began to raise his arm again, "but ultimately, it really doesn't matter all that much."

Kristoff leapt forward, closing the distance in a fraction of a second and grasping at Callaghan's arm. The gun fired just after Kristoff began to redirect it, and Anna cried out as the speeding projectile tore its way through her flesh and embedded itself deep in her shoulder. Kristoff thrust Callaghan's wrist upward, and with the gun arm lifted harmlessly toward the ceiling, Callaghan's core was exposed, allowing Kristoff to deliver a quick, solid jab to his gut and finish with a knee to the crotch, downing the man to his knees instantly with a cough and a breathless groan. The sudden physical assault had caused Callaghan's grip to weaken, and Kristoff wrung the moment by the neck, prying the firearm from the professor's hands and whipping it across the man's face. Callaghan caught the end of the handle on his temple, sending him to the ground and knocking his mask from his face.

Callaghan fell hard on his side, curled into the fetal position, glaring back up at Kristoff through his agony with dark, soulless eyes, and gnashed, gritted teeth.

Kristoff recognized him immediately, despite the long strands of gray hair and the distortion caused by his furious expression, and all at once he remembered. The acts that he regretted the most in his life, those unspeakable crimes of war—no, crimes against _nature—_ that he had committed were all done under the orders of one man, all in the name of duty. The gun trembled in Kristoff's hands as he beheld the face of the man who had ruined him, and Callaghan merely smiled. The rest of his previous expression had marginally softened into a tired and weary gaze that no longer held any malice, but left only cold and unempathetic understanding.

"It seems that you finally remember now," Callaghan remarked. His voice was rough, hoarse and dry, lacking the deep and commanding timbre that the mask had apparently been providing.

Kristoff said nothing and pat the man down before backing away, his gun still trained on the professor, who looked back at him quizzically.

"Are not going to shoot me, Sergeant?"

"Not sure."

"You probably should. If you leave me, I will come for you again."

Kristoff ignored him. "Tell your people to open the vault."

Callaghan chuckled. "You hold no leverage over them, or even over me. Kill me, and my men will scatter to the four frosted winds, hiding in the fjords and the ruins like the rest of you savages. They will be left without a master and wander as ronin, answering to no one, much less you. You can go ahead and kill me. They won't care."

Kristoff frowned, puzzled by the man's words. "Do you not fear death?"

Callaghan calmly laid his head back, resting it on the tile as if he no longer had a care in the frozen world. In truth, his body burned with pain, battered and half broken as it was by Anna's barrage and Kristoff's takedown. He was helpless and laughed mirthlessly at the mountain man's question. "Death would probably be the quickest path to my goal, but that route would not be my first choice."

"Why are you hesitating?" Anna growled menacingly from behind them. From her tone, she seemed almost anxious, impatient.

Kristoff's tore his gaze from where it had been locked on the professor to stare in shock at Anna. The unexpected hostility and malice in her voice had taken the mountain man by surprise and bled unease into his countenance.

Anna was still standing, hunched slightly with a crimson-covered hand cupping her shoulder to stem the bleeding from her wound, and glared down at the professor with pure hate etched into her freckled, windswept face. A searingly painful stab of regret and guilt embedded itself in Kristoff's heart, where it joined all the rest. He never thought he'd see her like that; Anna, who had always been filled with love, who had been motivated by it in everything she did, now stood and stared murderously at a downed and defeated old man, filled with a dark and malicious desire fueled by blazing hatred. Kristoff desperately wished he could erase that image of her from his memory.

Anna was now trembling with the force of her emotion, and when she spoke through pulled back lips and bared teeth, her voice quaked with the predatory rumbling of a beast. "He killed _Olaf!_ He took _our Elsa!_ He tortured _my sister!"_

Kristoff heard the familiar click of a hammer cocking, and finally saw the massive revolver that Anna held in her hands. It was Syd's hand cannon. She had raised it, her burning eyes and shaky aim reserved only for the man who had kept them here, the man who had reduced their beautiful, kindhearted, platinum blonde loved one to a hollow, broken shell of the masterpiece she once was. Anna's intent was as clear as perfectly cut crystal. "If you won't do it, I will."

"Anna," Kristoff warned, knowing she was too far gone to realize that she was about to do something that she would later regret more than anything. Through dilated eyes so close to the blues he knew all too well, the gateway through her mask was raised and open to him. He saw the uncertainty shuffling around inside of her, the immense fear that wrangled uselessly against the even more monstrous giant of her rancor, and he now knew for certain what he had already suspected to be true.

Anna had never killed a man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back. I can't say for certain when the next chapter will be; the new semester begins on Monday, and it will hopefully not be as bad as the past two. I'm aiming to try and return to the old schedule of every other Thursday, so listen out, and follow me if you haven't already so that you'll receive chapter updates. Until then.


	23. Onset

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I totally forgot to upload this. I'm way more active on FFN and apparently forgot to upload this chapter here back in January. Not a lot of work has been done on WG as I am currently working on an original comic anthology series called Chaos Project (more info here http://thevertigomaster.deviantart.com/gallery/63819438/Chaos-Project) so everything else has been a bit sidelined. Now for the actual A/N 
> 
> From January 5th, 2017: Welp, so much for two-week updates. You know it's been too long when you have to completely reread your own story. It's been yet another insanely busy semester here on Planet Campus, and I'm just glad it's over. Welcome to part three of Winter's Guardian. For those of you who have patiently stuck with me and this story up through now, I humbly give my most sincere thanks; this fic turned two years old two and a half month ago, and I feel like I should have been done with this a long time ago. 
> 
> We're about two-thirds of the way through this tale, and my only hope now is that I can live up to your expectations for this story, and hopefully exceed them, on the final leg of this journey. Enjoy the long-awaited chapter!

**Part Three—Vintersolverv**

* * *

 

"Dr. Beaumont, please, I just need a moment of your time!"

"For more of your rambling nonsense, I cannot spare  _any_  time. Go away, Milo."

Milo walked alongside the academy director, struggling to keep pace with her swift strides, his exertion competing against the trembling grin of nervous energy that was currently spread across his face. "It's not nonsense, Dr. Beaumont! I have evidence! Proof! It's all in the transcriptions from the archives!" He began digging in his bag, trembling with excitement, "I have my conclusions compiled in my notes here; I've been able to get almost all of the facts to work out! Just look!"

Dr. Belle Beaumont gave out an exasperated sigh as she massaged the bridge of her nose. " _Again_  with the archives, Milo? There's nothing to gain from them! They're only the impossible, fantastical ramblings of a mad hermit."

"Sergeant Kristoff Rudolph Bjorgman is  _not_  a madman! And the events described in the records are not impossible—the Cocytus event simply could not have happened in the way that we know it did without some form of magic!"

" _Magic_?! Dear God, do you even  _hear_ yourself?" Having arrived at the door to her office, Dr. Beaumont stopped in the hall to open the door and turned to face Milo, who was stumbling in the wake of the change of pace. "Bringing such vernacular into a scientific establishment like you are is the height of absurdity! The event from seven years ago could not have happened in the way the transcripts claim it did because it  _didn't_ happen that way to begin with!" She entered the room and unceremoniously dropped her large handbag onto her desk with a solid thud before lowering herself into her high-backed chair. Milo followed her in rather timidly and sat down on the worn seat placed before the rectangular edifice of furniture. Dr. Beaumont leaned back with folded arms before continuing her lecture, appearing both concerned and irritated. "You forget that you're only reading the hysterical writings of a delusional, half-frozen loner whose frostbitten body is buried out in the snow somewhere."

"Ma'am, if you could just hear me out, surely I can convince you to-"

Director Beaumont stood up abruptly and turned away. "I have heard more than enough of what you have to say, Mr. Thatch."

Milo's grip on his messenger bag tightened as he flinched at her words. His gaze dropped down with his hopes to the hard ground below.

Dr. Beaumont sat down and sighed yet again, the same sigh as before. It had become a well-practiced gesture in the time since Milo had presented her with his first outrageous proposal. The scholar removed her glasses from her fair, comely face and brushed aside a rogue strand of brown hair. "Milo, you are a wonderful addition to our program, to the university, and to academia as a whole. Your enthusiasm, powered by your insatiable curiosity, is your greatest strength, but also your greatest weakness. For every enlightening study and profound breakthrough that it guides you to, it also seems to lead you down such foolish paths—futile pursuits borne out of idealistic beliefs that drive you to maddening obsession. Not everything is possible, Mr. Thatch. Magic isn't  _real_ ; it's the sad truth of the world." Dr. Beaumont rocked back in her chair and crossed her legs, her fingers coming to rest atop her knee, knitted with one another, and Milo could sense that her lecture was coming to its conclusion.

Belle's eyes bored intently into Milo's with a reserved intellectual quality. "I want you to give up on this fruitless pursuit, Milo. You're grasping for the stars with your bare hands." Her expression softened. "This isn't good for you, and not just mentally either; you've become stick-thin—don't think I didn't notice! Please, go home. Eat something. Get some sleep, and tomorrow, come to the lab and do something relevant, for your own sake."

It was Milo's turn to sigh. His hands dropped to his sides, and after a pregnant pause, he rose stiffly before turning on a heel to leave without a backward glance. "I'll see myself out."

—@—

Now, as any trope-savvy reader will likely suspect, following the rather reasonable and healthy advice of his senior and superior was the  _last thing_  that Milo James Thatch planned to do. The curious historian and scientist, his determination now reinvigorated by the obstacles that Director Beaumont had placed before him, returned to the narrow lamp-lit aisles of the university archives, deep in the basement of the library. "I know there's more. Something that will tie it all together, to bridge a gap that no one will admit exists. There has to be," Milo told himself out loud.

He didn't need Dr. Beaumont's help. In retrospect, he could hardly even fathom why he even bothered to speak to her on the matter in the first place. Once he had gathered and arranged  _all_  of the pieces, there would be no way for her to refute him—to refute the truth. She would have no choice but to admit that he was right all along.

Milo searched for a moment, selected the volume he wanted from the shelves, and began to read.

—@—

_\--The following passages and entries detail Sergeant Kristoff Rudolph Bjorgman's account of the Cocytus Incident.--_

_\--Volume 24, pages 1-16: Entry #113, circa November, 2037 C.E.:_

—|—

I figured it was time. After everything that's happened out here in the past month, and with everything else that is probably going to occur in the near future, I decided it was probably time to start writing it all down. On our way out of the compound, we had raided the armory, coming away with rifles, pistols, and several clips for each, but amongst the guns, ammo, and explosives, there was something far more powerful: a quill pen and reams of bound paper. Wrapped in leather, the latter made for an excellent—albeit crude and slightly Neanderthalic—journal. Before I begin to tell of the present, however, I must retell a bit of the past, and, specifically, shed some light on just how exactly we managed to escape from that wretched compound.

—|—

"Anna, don't do it."

"We _have to!_  He'll hurt her again! You  _know_ he will!"

"You don't want his death on your conscience! You'll  _never_ be the same!"

"I'm willing to pay much more than the price of my own innocence if it will save the person I love most!"

She was quaking like a leaf, trembling, the beginnings of tears building in the corners of her eyes. She was falling apart at the seams, but she shook her head as if banishing something from her mind, and all at once she stilled, back straight, arms out, aim true, her body language having performed a complete reversal. The most startling change, however, was in her eyes. That flat gaze of focus, the emotionless countenance of a statue, the guiltless pose of a  _killer._

" _Anna, put the gun down!_ "

She did not heed me. Not in the slightest. After the flash, the oversized firearm's recoil nearly dropped her down onto her back, and all the countless sounds of the world synthesized and unified into a continuous ringing hum. The body on the other side of the room twitched violently as a blast of red mist engulfed his torso, and the now dead man lay still. He had finally reached his goal, at last.

She had done it. I knew that she would, in retrospect, where everything is so clear, where we can look back on the past like gods, like higher-dimensional beings ascended beyond the trappings of the linear march of time, where we can see everything with such perfect clarity. Anna was unbelievably stressed, acting under the influence of adrenaline, and her sister's life and sanity were both at the mercy of a militarized sociopath, the latter of whom had been standing directly before her, defenseless. When stated in those terms, the outcome truly was obvious.

Nonetheless, I was left numb in the wake of it, numb as Anna's white-knuckled hands as they held the smoking gun. I felt nothing as the realization of what she had done began to dawn on her, and was stunned motionless as both the gun and her knees fell to the floor. I don't know how else to describe the state of my mind at that point in time; it was complete and utter resignation, but without the melancholy that often accompanies it. In its place was a void.

Callaghan's men looked on, stunned and stock-still, unsure and lost. It was just as he said it would be.

Finding no merit in dwelling on the immediate present, I looked toward what lay ahead. "Open the vault," I ordered in a flat monotone. The staff looked at one another. Being no longer presented with a valid reason to deny my request, they silently complied, and with a metallic groan and a crackling of ice, the beast of a barrier stretched open wide like a silver, frosted maw. I stepped inside.

Three bullets to the glass wall brought it all down like sand. The shards tinkled and clattered against the ground, glinting and reflecting the incoming light deeper into the room, and in their patchy rays, I saw a near-imperceptible flash of white gold. No one came forth from the shadows, but I knew she was there, and that she would hear what I had to say.

"The Devil is dead, and his demons are without wings or fangs. They can never hurt you ever again."

There was a pause of silence, and then something shifted in the darkness. Slowly, quietly, someone began to make their way forward. Elsa entered the light, head down, hair a mess, wearing a hospital gown that only partly covered her nearly emaciated form. In the three weeks since I had seen her from the vantage of the observation deck, she appeared to have worsened considerably. It was also entirely possible that I was only now close enough to truly see the extent of what they had done to her. Numerous dots of irritated scabs and scars adorned her arms, legs and the sides of her neck, likely left behind by a nearly countless amount of injections and cruel experiments. Her bleached and bone-ridged skin, deprived of sunlight for who knows how long, shone with the brightness of pure white snow in the fluorescent light leaking in from the chamber beyond. I wanted to cry at the state of her, at what they had done to Elsa, to  _my Elsa_. More than that, however, I wanted to see her eyes. I wanted her to look at me.

I came forward, and she did not shy away. Gingerly, as if she were made of porcelain, I wrapped my arms around her and held her. "You're safe, Elsa," I reiterated softly, trying my best to comfort her and her small frame. My grip on her tightened, and at last, I saw them, the blues I once knew, the blues of my dreams, the blues which I had not seen in the waking realm for years, and had never thought I'd ever see again. Her irises were the blue of an iceberg in a frozen, wintry fantasy. They were afraid but hopeful, wet with unshed tears, and I did my best to smile through my own.

—|—

We picked up Marshall along the way out and managed to find some first aid for Anna. It was a very temporary solution; we weren't exactly in a rush, but I wouldn't exactly say we weren't in a hurry either. Who wouldn't be? The last thing anyone wanted to do was spent another damned minute here than we had to. At Anna's insistence, we carried Hans's body with us on an improvised stretcher.

"He deserves a burial, and it shouldn't be one done in this place," she had said, glaring at us all, just daring us to argue. Her pupils were still a tad bit too large, and Callaghan's dried blood was still on her face.

No one said a word.

We arrived on the roof to find the orphaned compound staff urgently packing themselves into helicopters like militarized sardines. We came upon one of the emptier transports, and Anna yanked its pilot out by the collar before throwing him down to the deck of the helipad. She whipped around to the rest of the vessel's passengers and leveled a gaze cold enough to rival her sister's, prompting the cowed soldiers to meekly and immediately file out of the vehicle.

I watched them for a moment as they fled toward the other transports before I turned to Marshall, who caught my gaze and looked back at me curiously. "You still remember how to fly?" I asked.

He returned my question with a smirk. "Conveniently, yes."

"Good, because I sure as hell don't remember."

Marshall managed to smile, and I felt glad that he was able to manage it, even if it was rather bitter looking. He had been held in an entirely separate sector of the compound from us, and we didn't have any idea what they may have done to him. The fact that he hadn't volunteered to share anything only worried us further.

Marshall climbed up into the chopper and headed to the front, and after Anna had finished helping me lift Hans and his makeshift stretcher aboard, she followed after her former bodyguard. The rotors began to pick up and turn, rippling the air with a near deafening hum. Before boarding, I looked back at Elsa, only to find no one there. A now familiar feeling of panic began to set in, but a quick turnaround revealed that she had already gotten into the chopper without my notice. I exhaled, irritated with myself for freaking out so easily, and climbed aboard, shutting the side door behind me. Marshall didn't even wait for me to sit down before we began to climb, and the change in velocity caused me to fall down rather hard and gracelessly onto the bench.

Embarrassed, I glanced around for witnesses, and found a very startled Elsa staring at me with wide eyes. The already rising heat in my face continued its ascent and began to spread with even greater haste.

I smirked in spite of myself, amused by her reaction. "Sorry, didn't mean to scare you."

"I was not scared," she replied, almost indignantly, though her tone was unpracticed.

I smirked, "Your reaction said otherwise."

Elsa glared at me, and I was struck by how overwhelmingly familiar it looked. Additionally, the short back-and-forth we had just partaken in was not unlike the debates and banter that had seemed to fill the older journals I had read, and I began to smile.

Some of the emotions from my thoughts involuntarily found their way into Elsa's expression, and slowly, the ends of her frown began to rise. At first, it was just a slight lift of the cheeks, then a grin, and by the end, she was simply beaming, now wider than I, her eyes still managing to shine despite what she had been through. I wondered then if she had remembered something from our past too.

It was now my turn to match her smile and match it I did. "Welcome back, Elsa."

We soared over the fields of frozen shards with no one in pursuit. We were all finally free of the compound.

—|—

About an hour or two likely passed in the helicopter, or so it seemed. Accurate timekeeping in the wake of the apocalypse is, as you can probably imagine, rather difficult. I admit I wasn't entirely sure where we were going, but at that point, I don't think any of us really cared what the answer to that would be, so long as it wasn't the place where we had just come from. After an uncertain stretch of time that displaced the sun's relative position in our gray-blue sky by a decent margin, the vehicle shifted as we began our descent. From the windows, the distant terrain began to disappear over the horizon and behind the various features of the landscape.

Right when I was expecting the trees to further obscure my view of the world beyond, however, we landed suddenly. Roughly. We were jarred in our seats by the impact as the helicopter collided slightly too hard with the ground and rocked violently. I felt an unusually warm pressure around my forearm and looked over to find Elsa's arms wrapped around it while her eyes and head flicked around like those of a distressed cat.

The whine of the helicopter blades began to drop in pitch and loudness as the revolving rotors decelerate. Marshall left the pilot's seat to join us in the back of the chopper, looking rather sheepish and trying his best to pretend he wasn't glancing at us. It was a vain attempt.

"It's been over five years, give me a break..." he mumbled in a retort before pulling open the door. We all flinched back at the sudden, unforgiving burst of cold and light that blasted its way in from the harsh outside world. My eyes gradually adjusted to the brightness, and saw, to my dismay, that Elsa was shivering from the drop in temperature. Elsa never felt the cold, but I suppose that after everything those bastards had done to her, this shouldn't be a surprise. It wasn't any less disheartening to see, to be reminded of just how far they had reduced her.

I grabbed an extra black puffer coat that had been left behind by a soldier from the compound and handed it to Elsa, who accepted it graciously before hastily putting it on. I then stepped out of the helicopter and immediately lost my balance with a yelp. The ground below me was ice instead of snow, and I had to latch onto a handle on the outside of our vehicle to prevent myself from falling down on my ass. "Jeez, Marshall! Five years or not, why the hell did think it was a good idea to land a helicopter on a frozen...lake?" I stopped and trailed off midsentence as I began to realize something rather peculiar.

"It's not a lake, Kristoff." Marshall corrected, looking out toward the distance where there appeared to be a border to the surface we stood on. "It's a roof."

"The roof of what?" I asked. The building was obviously man-made. It didn't appear to be the compound, but something about it seemed strangely...familiar. Directly before us in the center of the large roof, there stood a small squat building. Several tall and imposing shards of ice extruded from its surface, rising from the ground like breaching whales, curving and twisting through the air in a wild and anxious fashion. Marshall carefully made his way forward and hopped off of where we were standing, which was evidently some kind of elevated platform, to the main, snow-covered surface about half a meter below us. Anna followed after him without hesitation. I turned back around to make sure Elsa was behind me and found her staring ahead and beyond the world with a very strange expression on her face.

"Elsa?"

She spoke, but didn't otherwise break from her trance, "I've...been here."

I frowned, confused. "When?"

"Before."

I had a feeling that she wasn't talking about just  _any_  "before." I took another full look around. Nothing in particular really stuck out at me, but the scene as a whole summoned forth a very strong feeling of deja vu.

"Is this..."

Anna beat Marshall to the low building in the center and stood before its frosted glass doors, which were additionally coated with actual frost. Apparently noticing something off about it, she outstretched a mitten-covered hand and wiped it across, brushing away a swath of particulate snow and revealing a series of letters scribed in a clean-cut, sans-serif font.

Anna's stoic scowl was at once replaced with an expression of pure awe. "Arendelle Manor," she read aloud.

The name was all it took for the memory to snap into place. In a jarring flurry, a massive flood of gestalts blasted into my mind's eye with the force of a freight train. Images, thoughts, and sensations surrounded and enveloped me; I saw a labyrinth of icy halls, a white door with painted crocuses, an enormous dining room, a swaying braid of platinum blonde marching ahead of me across the concrete expanse of a roof. I heard the benevolent laugh of an angel and the anguished cries of the very same, along with many other catches of sounds, smells, and voices that spiraled and blended together into a violent cacophony of sensation, rising and expanding to a deafening and blinding peak.

Right at the moment when I had reached my limit, I was abruptly brought back, torn and thrust out from the depths of my recovering memory by the distorted sound of the angel's voice. The lingering miasma cleared as I looked down at her and the eyes that looked back up at me with blue-tinged concern.

"What did you see?" Elsa asked.

"Too much at once," I muttered, massaging my throbbing forehead. "I...may need some time to sort it out." Whether or not that meant just enough time for my sudden headache to fade, or a period far longer, was yet to be determined.

A loud crash of breaking glass drew our attention back to the door, which Anna had apparently attempted to kick in, or more accurately, shatter. How discrete. She smirked at us for but a moment before returning to her usual scowl. Her fleeting joy was like the sun passing through a gap in a cloudbank. "One of you, grab Hans before we go in."

Marshall grunted in acknowledgment, taking up the responsibility, and headed back toward the helicopter. I attempted to follow, intending to assist him with the other end of the stretcher, but he waved me away without a word, and I instead trailed after the two sisters as they both headed inside with quickened, curious paces.

The interior was not as dark as I was expecting it to be. Beyond the shadowy alcove that the now glassless doors had stood in, a faint and ethereal light filled the room. While it was still relatively dim juxtaposed against the blinding shine of the outdoor snow, it was at least bright enough for me to decently distinguish shapes and features, along with the Arendelles' pale and freckled skin, which shone mystically. They were in their element.

We continued to wander inward, guided down through the maze of debris, hallways, rooms, and stairways by fragments of memory. After some time, we came upon a once-grand set of wooden double doors surrounded by rubble and pierced through by three of the countless icy pillars that had burrowed through the numerous walls, floors, and ceilings of the manor like wild threads stitched by a mad and gargantuan seamstress. The portal before us was held ajar by a gap just wide enough for a person to strafe through. We made our way through it in single-file, and the sight that awaited us was unlike anything we had ever seen in clear memory.

A great ceiling, seemingly vaulted to dizzying heights, spanned out above us, held up by elegant walls of stone, adorned with pillars, paintings, and intricate architectural detail. A smooth but rubble-pitted floor of once-polished marble stretched out away from us and lay trapped below a thick layer of strangely-patterned ice. Due to the room's sheer immensity, even more of the frozen spires were visible in here. As I examined the swirling concert of their burrowing paths, it almost seemed as if they were emanating from this chamber.

I stepped further into and looked on at the room and the ice, and as I did, voices, as fleeting as the wind, began to whistle past and through me.

" _Hans is here."_

" _Considering that you neither addressed the whole body of guests nor canceled the entire ball, I assume that you are aware of the level of discretion that is needed for this?"_

" _We would like-"_

" _Your blessing-"_

" _Of our marriage!"_

" _Anna, what do you know of 'true love?'"_

" _Give me my glove!"_

" _Elsa, please! I can't live like this anymore!"_

" _Then_ leave. _"_

" _I said_ enough! _"_

"Kris?"

I whipped around, abruptly startled out of...whatever the hell that was by the feel of a hand on my arm. I found Elsa looking up at me yet again, with the same expression as before, though the worry and anxiety displayed in her floe-blue irises now seemed much intense than before.

"Are you alright?" she asked quietly but firmly, her eyes impatiently searching mine for unspoken answers as I struggled to speak. I was still reeling from the mental assault, and could only manage an unconvincing nod in my dazed state, for there was another thing I had just realized. If this really was Arendelle Manor, and if both my hallucinations and the old journals were to be trusted, then we were currently standing at the epicenter of the Crash, the beginning of the end of the world.

"Ah! There you are!" A booming voice exclaimed from across the great hall. We all dropped down into a defensive stance at once, rifles, guns, and bows drawn and trained in the direction of the newcomer. In the still dim light of the manor's interior, I couldn't recognize the rather large figure, though his voice was most definitely familiar. He was approaching us, and as he came forward, several shapes emerged into view behind him. Whoever he was, he clearly wasn't alone. They all came into the light at the center of the room, and by those rays, they were revealed.

There were seven of them, all of quite varied appearances. There was a blonde girl who appeared to be no older than a teen, a young man who looked eager to prove himself, along with a few other odd figures of various ages. One had intricately braided hair the color of gold coming down to her feet, and another was both taller and hairier than any man I'd ever seen. His form towered over the others like that of a great beast. In the front of them all, however, was someone who I hadn't at all been expecting to see.

I choked back my gasp. "Oaken?"

The rotund yet hardened man smiled. "Ya. It's about time you showed up. We've been waiting for you."

"And how exactly did you know that we'd come here?" I asked. Hell,  _we_ didn't even know that we would come here, and yet he somehow arrived  _before_ us?

Oaken shrugged casually. "We simply made the most educated guess that we could. You've made this trip countless times in the past, Marshall, have you not?"

Marshall was stunned. "How do you-"

"Know?" Oaken finished for him. Marshall's alarm increased, and upon noticing it, Oaken smiled. "That is answered easily enough."

That great Beast of a man came forward suddenly, and we all immediately inched back a few rapid step in anxious and tense anticipation, but he merely tossed a duffel bag into the space between our groups. It looked oddly familiar and was filled with even more familiar contents. I could see my journals peeking out of the unzipped top. The sight elicited various levels of surprise from the rest of our party and, in Elsa's case, a peculiar form of confusion that I couldn't quite place. I, on the other hand, only become more suspicious.

Oaken took the initiative. "As you may have guessed, we've been tracking you since you left the cabin. After seeing that helicopter come and go and subsequently discovering your hastily abandoned cave, there was no disputing what had happened or where they were taking you; Callaghan and his army were the only ones with the resources or the ability." Oaken smiled, bemused, "Until now, of course.

"We then took the liberty of collecting and studying the journals that you had left behind. They offered quite a wealth of insight, even for us, and when the day of your escape and the collapse of the regime finally came, we had a rather good idea of where you would go next. We've been catching up ever since."

We took in their words in silence. For the most part, it all seemed to fit together pretty well, fishy and odd as it was. There was, however, one rather larger problem with their narrative that did not appear to add up with the rest of the pieces.

"How exactly did you manage to arrive here before us?" I asked, straight to the point. "I find it rather hard to believe that all of you were capable of traversing the wasteland on foot faster than our helicopter."

Oaken nodded sagely, "Indeed, we cannot. Your suspicions in that regard are correct."

I was taken aback by his bold honesty, and he chuckled at my reaction before taking advantage of the dumbfounded confusion to continue speaking. "You already hold the answer, though it would appear you have not yet discovered the link that connects it. Volume 20—shortly after the Crash—when you had relocated to the town of Arendal, you had an...encounter with us."

More memory flashes. Streaks of coral light, a van spinning, a strange golden light, an aerial view of the city as we flew above it, and a hyperventilating Elsa. I blinked through the vision as it faded, and when my gaze flicked back up, Oaken was watching me expectantly. If one were determined to analyze him thoroughly, as I was, they would have caught the traces of pride in his expression, nested in that slight, bearded smile and the faded shine in his eyes.

"You're remembering," he remarked observantly.

Indeed, I was, but even with that mystery solved, there was something else that just didn't sit right with me and kept me on edge. "Maybe I am. I'm surprised that you haven't attacked already, though. I thought you all wanted me dead."

Oaken shrugged in a half-apology, "we did once, but at this point, your deaths are no longer in our best interest, or anyone else's, for that matter. Fortunately for you, it would seem that the prophecy was not true after all."

"What do you- Wait, a  _prophecy?_ "

"Indeed. It is an old one, unearthed a little before the  _first_  Cocytus Incident, about two hundred years ago here in this region, though it was likely predicted and recorded long beforehand. According to this prophecy, a sorceress known as the Snow Queen would bring about the end of our world with an extinction-level event, an Ice Age that would forever encase all living things in a frozen embrace of death. The first incident, however, was resolved peacefully, leaving the prophecy unfulfilled.

Now she has appeared again."

The Beast continued where Oaken left off. "The prophecy states that the journey that would lead to her destiny, the fuse that would ignite the world into eternal, damning frost, would begin once love had pierced the heart of the Snow Queen. It also says that both the presence and the existence of the one who hath done so would guide her to her future, and to a fate that would end us all."

Oaken nodded. "When it became evident that the one whom she had fallen for was none other than you, it seemed then that there was only one way to derail the prophecy."

"My death."

Oaken nodded grimly but then smiled, "Ya, but now, there is no need. We came to you in person because we had to confirm something for ourselves, and now we have."

"Confirm what?" Anna asked.

The golden haired girl with the braid—who I could've sworn I had seen before somewhere—spoke with her chin raised. "That Kristoff's return to the Snow Queen's side would not reawaken her power, and we see now that this is so."

Oaken tagged in. "With the Snow Queen now unable to fulfill the prophecy, it no longer makes a difference whether or not you're in the picture, and so we no longer have a reason to want to kill you."

"Oh," I replied oh-so-very eloquently. I was rather surprised by this reveal, understandably, and found that I wasn't entirely sure how to respond. "I suppose that you'll be leaving now then?"

"On the contrary, I think we might stay. It is best for people to stick together in such trying times as these, ya?"

I grunted, wary and begrudgingly. "I suppose so."

A wheezing cough from behind me startled us all, and I turned around to find the impossible staring back at me.

Hans Syd was sitting up wearily, rubbing his head and looking around in a daze.

_Great_. That's just  _great_.

Elsa has incredibly powerful ice magic and froze the world, Anna can bend steel and punt grown-ass men like goddamn  _footballs_ , and Syd just came back from the freaking dead. Sure, why the  _hell_  not. Having seen everything that I've seen, it's surprisingly easy to accept even the most outrageous things, so much so that my only real reaction to seeing the laws of life and death being turned on their heads is an annoyed  _sigh_.

What a world.

_\--End of Passage--_

 


End file.
